My Own Skin
by CupcakeSprinkles14
Summary: Cato meets Peeta, a boy with a serious secret he plans to take to his grave. When Cato stumbles upon this secret, he must change his perception on everything he thought was possible. "Imagine looking in the mirror and seeing someone who wasn't you. Imagine it every single day. I am trapped in a body that isn't mine and there is nothing I can do about it."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: A very important thing to note here guys is that my hiatus is not over. This is not my story, it's a friend of mine's. He wrote this story but didn't have the courage to make his own account to post it due to it's controversial nature. But this topic is very close to my and his hearts. Any comments from you guys will be passed on to him.**

**People write stories on this site about horrid things like rape and murder and have sadistic plots where characters are tortured and yet, certainly not in this fandom, have I ever saw this issue being tackled. So, now it is being tackled. And please refrain from hatefulness in the comments, if you don't like it, don't read it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**One**

Have you ever looked into a mirror and saw someone who wasn't you?

Imagine it every single day.

On the 14th of October 2010, a teenager went missing. Fifteen year old Perry Lorana disappeared without a trace. She was last seen exiting her family estate by a neighbour and was reported missing when she never returned. Police searches scoured the country and sent out missing posters to every country surrounding, but Perry was never found. On new years day the following year, the search ended and she was considered dead by her local village.

Perry Lorana ceased to exist.

And in her wake an insecure, scared boy arrived.

A boy with many secrets.

~xXx~

**Four years later:**

No one knew who lived in the house at the end of the road. The guy never came out. He even had his groceries delievered, never setting a foot past the threshold. No one went in, no one went out. It was a mystery amongst many of the people who lived in Panem village. The kids had theories ranging from pirates to ghosts to a mad man who kidnapped children and kept them in his basement.

No one really knew the truth.

Whoever lived inside that house was such a recluse that when Cato was called in to fix a sink, he was surprised.

Cato wasn't even sure why he became a plumber. It was an occupation he had never even thought about until he had been bullied into work experience by his dad and never found the opportunity to escape from it. Maybe now it was coming in handy and he had a chance to find out who lived in the house.

"The house at the end of the road?" Clove was beside herself. Cato shrugged as if it weren't that big a deal. He had gotten the call a couple of hours ago and was now sititng with Clove in the local coffee shop, discussing what he might find.

"Yup, the house at the end of the road," he replied.

"What do you think it'll be like?" asked Clove. "Do you think it'll be all dark and gloomy or do you think you'll be surprised?"

"I honestly don't know," Cato answered. He stirred his coffee with the small wooden stick they give out. "Maybe it's not as bad as people imagine. What if he's just like you and me? What if he just doesn't like other people?"

Clove shrugged. She picked at the napkin beside her latte and threw the small paper balls around the table. "My theory is that he's allergic to the sun. That sort of thing can happen. It makes your skin break out severely. Like a horrid sunburn times a billion. People with that can't go outside for more than an hour."

Cato considered it. At least it wasn't one of the more inconsiderate and brash theories. Some of the stuff that people came up with were truly disgusting. Like he was a dog killer or a pyschotic peadaphile. The worst theory of all was that some believed that the man that lived in the house at the end of the street was the man who killed Perry Lorana.

It was ridiculous, since a body was never found. Cato wasn't sure who the first to believe that Perry had been murdered was. But whoever it was blamed the man who lived at the end of the road and spread the rumour everywhere. Just another reason for the man to hide indoors from everyone. What would they say to him if he ever did come out?

"You know it's been four years," Clove said.

Cato blinked out of his daze. "Since what?" he asked.

"Since Perry Lorana went missing." Clove pushed a newspaper article across the table. Cato picked it up and quirked an eyebrow. It was a four year memorial article. A picture of Perry was on the front. She had bright blue eyes, an impossible deep cobalt. Her hair was in two pigtails, her skirt pink and swishing below her knees. What struck Cato as odd was that she had one of those blue and green shirts that were all the rage four years ago. Except there was one minor detail.

She wasn't smiling.

"Her mother got the shirt signed by Britney Spears for her tenth birthday," Clove explained. Cato ran his finger along the black markings along the chest of the shirt in the picture. "It was also the shirt she wore the day she went missing."

"Who would wear a signed shirt? Wouldn't she have wanted to keep it safe?" asked Cato.

"Beats me," Clove replied. "I didn't know the girl."

Cato remembered seeing Perry around the high school when he was in third year. She was a quiet girl, never seemed to fit in. She seemed constantly insecure, always on her own. Cato considered going to talk to her, but he always chickened out. Not in the 'she's pretty so I'm freaking out' sort of chickened but the 'What if she rejects me?' way.

Again, not in the way it sounds.

"Perry Lorana is the biggest enigma that this village ever had," Clove sighed. "I only wish that the police had found her. Put her parents minds at rest. But then again she mightn't even be dead. She could be in the UK, Asia, the tropics, just under a different name. I don't understand why everyone immediately assumes that she's died."

"Or was murdered," Cato added.

Clove rolled her eyes. "Or murdered," she said.

Cato looked back down at the picture on the article. Perry Lorana. Gone for four years. How could time have gone by so quickly?

Then again, sometimes it felt like every second had dragged on for hours.

"So when do you have to go fix the sink?" asked Clove.

"Tomorrow."

"I bet you he's hot," Clove blurted out. Cato raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What? Stuck in the house for years, maybe he's hiding eternal beauty or something?" Cato couldn't help laughing. "I'm serious! How long has it been since you got some? Even if this guy isn't attractive you'll probably flirt him to death anyway."

"Being flirty is my thing, I'll admit that," Cato chuckled.

Clove burst out laughing. "Oh my god I can totally see you coming out with things like, 'You've been hiding inside so long, think you might be needing some company?'" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Cato sniffed and took another sip of coffee. "Nah, I'll probably just leave the guy alone," he said. "He always prefers to be on his own."

Clove's eyes had a symapathetic gleam to them. "But what if he called the plumber because he was sick of being on his own? You never know, maybe he's seeking the pleasure of your company."

"After four years of solidary confinement?" Cato asked. He had moved into the village a month after she disappeared. He moved in the dead of night, where no one could see him. People just woke up one morning and the house was occupied. "I'd doubt it."

Clove shrugged. "You never know," she said. "Sometimes being on your own for so long can make your realize that even the company of one is better than the company of none."

Even though this may have been the case for some people, it didn't seem likely in the case of the recluse with the broken sink. Something told Cato that that man generally did not want the company of anyone.

But for what reason, he had no idea.

~xXx~

Cato couldn't help noticing as he walked up the drive of the house that it was very unkempt. The grass was overgrown and scattered with weeds. He didn't know why he found this surprising. If the man never left his house , why would he bother about his front garden? Short answer: he wouldn't.

When he first knocked on the door, no one answered. Cato felt like a bit of a sap, standing on the doorstep of the house whose door never opened for people. Pedastrians walking along the pavements gave him funny looks, probably wondering if he was mad or stupid. Or maybe thinking that he was playing ding dong ditch and didn't fully understand the correct concept of the practice.

"Hello?" he loudly called. "It's the plumber!" God, he felt like an idiot.

Someone shifted behind the door. Cato waited, listening to the floorboards creak on the other side. Yeah, someone was definitely behind it. Okay, was this guy going to faff around? Because he didn't have time for that. If he was going to mess around then he was just going to leave.

"Look, if you've changed your mind and your sink has fixed itself then I'm just going to leave," he said.

He had adjusted to the zero response for so long that when the doorknob jiggled he jumped out of his skin. The tools bumped into each other inside his box, making a bash chinking sound. For some reason his heart sped up as the door slowly opened a crack.

A blue eye peered out.

"What's your name?"

The voice was firm but clear. Cato was taken aback by the authority. "Cato," he said. He held the toolbox up. "The plumber?"

The door opened fully and the blue eyes disappeared into the shadows. "Okay, come in." The voice had turned soft and quiet.

Well, here goes nothing.

Cato stepped into the house and was only three steps in when the man inside shut the door tight behind him, shrouding them in darkness. Cato squinted and could barely see a couple of inches in front of him. "Do you have any lights?" he asked. "I can't see a thing."

A small click made the lights come on. The interior of the house was tidy and upkempt, certainly more upkemt that the front yard. All the cleaniness reminded him that he needed to clean up his living room when he got home. It was a tip. "So," Cato said, "where's the sink?" He turned around to face the mysterious man and his throat went dry.

The man was standing at the door, brushing the blond hair out of his eyes. How could Clove have known that he was going to be hot? God, Cato really had to figure out how she predicted such things. He was slim, almost _too_ slim, and stood with his arms folded insecurely against his chest. He was absoloutely beautiful. "It's upstairs."

Cato nodded in awe. He was about to turn around when he frowned and asked, "Sorry, what was your name?"

"Peeta," the blond boy answered. He picked at his shirt and smoothed out the wrinkles. Cato noticed that Peeta was wearing clothes too big for him. Why was that? Can't you buy clothes online?

Upstairs, the sink wasn't going to take too long to be repaired. The pipes seemed to be clogged up a bit, which only took about half an hour was Cato to fix up. He couldn't help feeling curious about Peeta and why he had spent so long in his house. Really, Cato had thought that whoever lived here was going to be an old man complaining about kids and how things in his day were a lot different. Not someone who looked the same age as him, maybe even younger.

What was keeping Peeta inside this house?

When he fixed the piping, Cato packed up and went in search of Peeta to tell him the job was done. The halls were long and endless, and Cato got lost five times before he found himself back where he started. He didn't even realize that there were houses this big in Panem village. Certainly beat his one bedroom bungalow anyway.

At the end of the hall, there was a door with a 'Do Not Disturb' sign. Those signs were turned weren't they? Maybe Peeta had went in there. Cato gently rapped the door with his knuckles but there was no response. Okay, so he knew he should have left it at that but he was definitely being nosy today. He had so many questions. Why hide? What is there to hide? What is it that he leaves in fear of? Why never set even a foot outside?

Inside was a bedroom. Just a plain bedroom. Cream walls, biege carpets, wardrobe, bed, drawer set. Cato stepped inside, examining the room curiously. He could, for some reason, smell musk and a tint of cinnamon. Was that Peeta's normal scent? If so, it was gorgeous. Cato had a desire to bottle it and keep it for a rainy day. Geez, he didn't even know the guy an hour and he already wanted a perfume of his scent.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, letting his thoughts consume him for a moment.

So Peeta wasn't an old man, like most believed. He was nineteen, tops. What sort of nineteen year old wishes to stay holed up in their house with no satelite for t.v. or internet connection? Cato remembered when he was nineteen all he did was have sex and surf the net. Then again, maybe Peeta was different from ordinary nineteen year olds. He seemed insecure, uncomforable in his own skin. Maybe he had social anxiety and refused to go outside because of it . . .

Maybe Cato could help him . . .

He could imagine himself laying the blond beauty down on the bed, kissing his soft lips, his tender neck, listening to the soft moans that would slowly be coaxed out of him. Running his fingers down the boy's thin torso, through his golden hair, over the plump contours of his backside . . .

Whoa, back it up and put it in park Hadley. You can do that later with some lube and a tissue if you need to but not here in the guy's house!

Something blue peeked out from underneath the pillow. It didn't go with the colour scheme of the room. Cato frowned and tugged it out, unfolding the cloth to reveal one of those blue and green shirts . . .

One of those blue and green shirts . . .

That were all the rage . . . four years ago . . .

There was writing across the chest, too.

_'To my biggest fan Perry, Happy Birthday! Double figures, congratulations! _

_Britney xx'_

Cato's heart stopped and his blood ran cold. Why did Peeta have the shirt Perry Lorana went missing in? There was only one explanation. The kids were right.

Peeta killed Perry.

Speaking of the murderer himself, Peeta appeared in the doorway. His eyes zoned in on the shirt and his face paled. "You killed her, didn't you?" Cato said, finding it very difficult to keep his tone tame. "You killed Perry."

Peeta shook his head the tiniest of bits. "No," he said softly.

"Then what other explanation is there for this?" Cato demanded angrily, standing up. "Perry went missing in this shirt! It's the same colours, the same style, the same autograph from Britney Spears! And somehow you have it? Why did you do it, huh? What did she ever do to you?"

"I didn't kill her," Peeta pressed. He snatched the shirt from Cato and held it close to his chest, almost affectionately. "You shouldn't even be in here . . ."

"Why? Because you didn't want me-or anyone else for that matter-to know that you killed an innocent little girl?!" yelled Cato.

"I didn't kill her!" Peeta yelled back.

It all just sounded like denial. To save his own damn skin.

"You can tell that to the police," Cato said. He tried to walk around Peeta but he stepped back and blocked the doorway.

"You can't," he whispered.

"And why is that?" Cato snapped. Peeta squeezed his eyes shut and a tear slid down his cheek. A tear of guilt? Crocodile tears? Playing the part up to make it look like he regretted murdering Perry Lorana?

"Because she's me," he said. Peeta opened his eyes again, the blue orbs glittering with tears. Cato hadn't had the chance to pinpoint the shade. They were a deep blue, almost . . . cobalt . . . "I'm Perry Lorana."

**A/N: This is where you guys are either shocked or are one of those people who I'll never be fully able to understand who would be disgusted. R&R with your thoughts? My friend would love to hear what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, the response to this has been wonderful! Thank you for your kind reviews. I showed them to my friend and he was really pleased. But he told me that I should have warned you guys about the nature of the story but I said that something like this shouldn't be on the warnings. If someone gets offended then they can just stop reading because something like this shouldn't be upsetting and yet it is to some people, which I'll never understand.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Two**

"You're joking, right?" Somehow, Cato knew that Peeta wasn't, but he asked anyway, just in case.

Peeta shook his head. "I'm not," he said quietly. "Get out if you're going. Tell the police, I don't care." He pushed past Cato and sat on his bed, wiping the tear from his face and sniffing loudly. Part of Cato wanted to walk out the door right then but he turned on his heel instead to face Peeta.

"What do you mean you're Perry Lorana?" he asked.

"Exactly that!" Peeta replied. "I don't know if I could even dumb it down for you."

"Wait," Cato stepped forward, all prepared to sort all this new information out in his head. Instead he fell flat on his face. "No, I don't understand. How can you be Perry?" This was certainly the strangest excuse to get out being accused of murder he had ever heard.

Peeta shrugged glumly. "I don't expect you to understand," he muttered. "It's not like I'm all of a sudden going to vent to you just because you're the first person to set foot in this house in years."

"Okay, prove that you're her. Tell me something only Perry would know," Cato said.

There was a pause while Peeta thought about it. He never lifted his eyes from the floor, which was a shame since the blue of the iris really was magnificent. "You used to watch me in the school yard. I never really knew why, but you did. It was strange, since you never spoke to me," he explained.

Whoa, this was heavy. How could Peeta know that unless he was Perry herself? "Wait, so why are you hiding?" Cato asked. "Perry, your parents have been worried sick-"

"I'm not Perry!" Peeta snapped.

"You just said you were!" exclaimed Cato. He was extremely exasperated by this point and really had no idea what was going on.

Peeta shook his head. "You don't get it," he said. "_This_ is why I hide. Because you can't even understand the concept of what the hell is going on! How can I expect anyone else to?"

Unsure of why he really cared-maybe he was being nosy but hadn't realized-Cato put down his toolbox as if to make it final that he wasn't leaving. "Then try me," he said. "Explain how you're Perry and I'll leave you alone."

"How do I know you won't tell the police? Or anyone else for that matter?" Peeta-Perry?-fired back.

Cato made a small cross over his chest where his heart was. "I swear," he said.

"You mightn't be a man of your word."

"Trust me, I am."

Peeta met his gaze for the first time, his eyes narrowing skeptically. "Why should I trust the plumber I only met today?" he challenged.

"Because you know that if you don't explain to me then I'm going to go to the police and tell them that you have Perry Lorana's shirt without reasonable explanation," Cato replied. If Peeta couldn't back up his 'I am her' excuse then Cato would have no choice but to go to the police. He didn't want to, but he would have to. Because if there was even the smallest chances that Peeta was lying then the truth of what happened Perry was at risk. And she didn't deserve that.

Peeta held his gaze, daring him to try, but Cato held it back, unwavering. It wasn't too hard since he could get lost in those blue eyes and never return if he wanted to.

"I was born a girl," Peeta finally said. "But ever since I was five years old, I never felt like I was one."

"You never felt like . . . a girl?" asked Cato.

"I knew I was a girl but I didn't _feel_ like one," explained Peeta. "My mum would dress me in these little frilly pink dresses and everytime I looked in the mirror I just saw something wrong. I never felt right wearing the dresses or the skirts or playing with the dolls my relatives bought me. I hated it. It wasn't _me._ Eventually I stopped doing it. I started going outside and playing football but my mum didn't like it . . . She said, "God made you a girl, so why are you wasting your time acting like a boy?" I told her that God was wrong and she never looked at me the same way since."

Cato listened carefully. "Are you sure it isn't just a tomboy phase?" he asked.

"That's exactly what my dad said," replied Peeta. "He told me I'd grow out out it. That I'd realize who I was when I was older and I'd live my life however I saw fit. But when I turned fifteen, I knew that it wasn't a phase. I _wanted_ to be a boy."

"So you ran away," Cato finished.

"Yeah. I stayed away from here for two years. Cut my hair and changed my name, but when I came back I realized that I couldn't go outside. Because we're still living in the dark ages where people find it difficult to even come out as gay," Peeta said. "Let alone try and get help to change genders."

He was right about that. Panem was a village built upon Catholic values. As in you're born who you are and you don't have the right to change what God made you. Cato was even considered a disgrace in some parts of the village for admitting to be bi-sexual. Thankfully Clove and many others accepted him anyway without making too much of a song and dance out of it.

"You don't have to tell people that you used to be Perry," Cato said. "You could build a new life as Peeta if you want to."

"I can't," Peeta answered.

"Why not?"

Peeta picked at his shirt almost uncomfortably. "When I ran away I was too young to have the surgery for people who wish to change their gender," he explained. "I suppose it doesn't even matter, since surgery like that costs an astronomical amount of money anyway. Money I don't have."

It took Cato a moment to cotton on. "Oh . . . so you've still got . . . ?"

"A woman's body? Yes, I do." Peeta sounded almost disgusted in himself. Cato was shocked, since when he was sitting on the bed just half an hour ago fantasizing about taking this boy right here in this room, he hadn't noticed anything feminine about his body.

"You can't notice it," Cato said, hoping he was sounding helpful.

Peeta laughed hollowly. "That's only because I bind my chest everyday in the hopes that I can make myself feel even a little bit normal," he mumbled.

Cato winced. "Doesn't that hurt?" he asked.

"The pain is a little price to pay when I'm trying to make myself normal."

"But you're not irregular," Cato said. Sure, maybe other people in the village wouldn't be as accepting about what Peeta wanted to do with himself but that wasn't any of there business, what it? If Peeta wanted to be a boy, then he had the right to be a boy.

"I still see a girl when I look in the mirror and it feels wrong every single time," Peeta said, almost to himself. "I'm trapped in a body that isn't mine and there is nothing I can do about it."

"Sure there is," Cato replied. "Can't you save up for the surgery?"

"With what? My imaginary income?" Peeta fired back.

"Well, why don't you get a job?"

"And risk people finding out who I am? No chance."

"You could work with me? Or my friend Clove has a job going at the newsagents?" Cato suggested. What was he doing? Why was he offering the boy he just met jobs? Surely if Peeta got a job, he would become accustomed to the outside world while also bringing in the money he needs to get the surgery.

"What if something happens? What if people find out? I'm not having people staring at me or calling me names or hissing that I'm going to hell like they did to Paylor Winchester."

Paylor Winchester was a woman who came out as a lesbian when Peeta and Cato would have been just finishing Primary School. Because she came out as gay, and not bi like Cato had, she was completely shunned and treated like an oddity. She killed herself within three months of coming out. Panem village really was a horrible place to live.

"You won't be treated like Paylor Winchester because they won't find out," Cato said firmly. "Trust me, as soon as you've gathered enough money for the surgery you can begin again. As Peeta, not Perry."

"So you're saying that they won't notice that I've got a female body then? There's a reason I'm wearing these large clothes, you know," said Peeta. "If I wear things that fit then you can clearly see that I'm a girl!"

Cato frowned. "But you're not a girl."

Peeta looked at him helplessly. He looked on the verge of breaking down. "I never thought anyone would say that to me, certainly not the first person I told," he said.

"Look," Cato said, sitting down beside Peeta on the bed, "I can't pretend I understand what you're going through. I mean, heck, the biggest problem I've had is the old lady who lives next door to me giving me dirty looks because I like the D as well as the V-" Peeta chuckled a little bit at that-"but I do know that hiding away from everyone isn't going to get you anywhere."

"But it's so much easier," Peeta said softly.

"I know, it probably is," Cato conceited, "but getting out there and getting the money for your surgery will finally give you the confidence you need to start fresh. If you like, I'll even set you up with my friend Clove when it's all over."

Peeta screwed his eyebrows up. "I'm not really that into girls," he said.

Cato was surprised. "Oh . . ."

"I'm going to give every pensioner in this village a heart attack," Peeta muttered. "Trans-gender and gay."

"You'd be surprised how some people in this village have adapted," said Cato. "It seems that it's mostly the older generation now-a-days who wish to uphold the christian values. The younger ones are beignning to think for themselves. And honestly, in my opinion, everyone needs to learn to mind their own business."

Now that he was sitting so close to him, the musk and cinnamon smell was even stronger. In that moment all Cato really wanted to do was turn Peeta's face towards his and kiss him. What Peeta had said still hadn't changed his mind about wanting to have his way with him. In fact, his honesty made Cato's desire towards him increase. It was a disgrace that even in this day and age people like him still thought that they had to hide who they were out of fear of being ridiculed.

"I'm sure you're sick to death of listening to me complaining," Peeta said."You can go now if you want to. And if you still don't believe me, you can call the police. It's been four years, I hardly care anymore."

Cato shook his head. He reached out and took Peeta's hand, which surprised the young boy greatly. He blinked and stared at their hands in confusion. "I'm not going to the police," Cato said. "I want to help."

~xXx~

"So, do I call you she or he?"

"I perfer he," Peeta said, his voice faint behind the door.

Cato nodded as he filled the kettle up with water. "You see, I thought that but I wasn't sure," he said. He could hear Peeta struggling in the next room and he resisted the urge to ask if he needed help. Peeta was fully capable of dressing himself, even if he was uncomfortable in his own body. "Are you nearly there?"

"Yeah."

Cato flipped the switch for the water to boil and dropped two tea bags into the mugs he took out. "If you don't mind my asking, where do you get the money for groceries?"

"I earned quite a bit when I ran away doing things I perfer not to discuss," Peeta answered. "It was enough to get bits and pieces for four years but not enough to buy the surgery for myself, which had been my primary goal."

Cato wondered what he had done to get his money but did as Peeta asked and didn't open a discussion about it. "I suppose it's been hard, living on your own for four years," he said.

Peeta came through from the next room. Cato turned, deciding that watching the kettle wasn't going to make it boil any faster, and examined the clothes that weren't a large. They definitely fit Peeta well but he could see what he meant when he said that you could see that he had a feminine body when he wore clothes that fit. One thing noticed being that the jeans enhanced the curves of his hips and legs.

Peeta stood as if he was well aware of this. One arm was crossed across his chest while he held onto his throat with his other hand. He looked so uncomfortable it was almost heartbreaking.

"Why are you holding your throat?" Cato asked.

"I don't know. I've just always been aware of the fact that I don't have an adam's apple and it's always felt extremely obvious," Peeta answered.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Cato assured, turning back to the kettle as it boiled. "Sometimes a man's adam's apple isn't visible because of the shape of their neck or it's just really small." He glanced at Peeta over his shoulder and frowned. "Your chest isn't that noticable," he said.

"That's because it's still bound," Peeta answered.

"How do you even do something like that?" Cato asked.

"Compression bandages, mostly."

Cato winced. "God, doesn't that hurt? Do you wear the bandages all the time?"

Peeta shook his head. "I can't," he said. "Doing it for more than eight hours can cause injury or skin irritation . . . I can't sleep with it on either . . ."

"Well, as long as you know what you're doing," Cato said, picking up their mugs and taking them to the table in the kitchen. They sat at the table. Peeta adjusted how he sat in his seat several times before getting comfortable and settling. "So, why did you run away?"

"I told my parents I wanted to transition and they said no," Peeta answered, picking the chipped paint off his mug.

"Transition?"

"Have the sex change."

"I see." Cato wondered if the woman who had sobbed on t.v to thousands of people about how much she missed her little girl realized that what she had done was the reason she left. "So you left and went where exactly? The entire country was searched looking you."

"Once I chopped my hair off it was actually a lot easier to hide," Peeta said. "I was in the next town over the entire time."

"What? Seriously?" Cato asked, shocked. "How much of your hair did you cut off exactly?"

"My mother never cut it or got it trimmed, nor did she let me do it myself, so by the time I ran away it reached my lower back," Peeta explained. "It took a lot of work to get it all hacked off neatly."

"So once you did that and the search was called off, why did you come back?" Cato asked.

"I had no where else to go," Peeta said. "Once I earned the money I needed I really didn't want to stay where I was because it didn't have the best of memories in it's wake. I didn't have enough money to go to a different country so I just came back here and hid, as you already know."

"If it makes you feel any better, you're the bravest boy I've ever met," Cato said.

Peeta smiled. "Thank you, that's very sweet," he said. He knawed on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. "Cato, can I ask something?"

"Sure, go ahead," Cato replied.

"It's a bit embarrassing."

"It's fine, you can ask me anything you like."

Peeta stared at the table intensely. "Is it obvious, when I'm wearing clothes that fit, that I don't have a . . ." he trailed off and flushed in embarrassment. "You know."

Cato did know. "You mean that you don't have a Peeta Juniour just yet?"

"Yeah, that."

"Well, I suppose if someone who was extremely attracted to you and was trying to oggle the front of your jeans they might think it but remember, some guys' are just small and you can't see it at all," Cato explained. "Think of it this way, when I saw you when I first came into the house, I had no idea that you were born a girl."

"I guess . . ." Peeta didn't sound very convinced.

"If it helps, I even had a bit of a crush on you. Still do, really." Cato really didn't have a problem admitting things like this out loud, especially if it was to improve someone's self esteem.

Peeta risked glancing up at him. "But you said-and I quote-that you like the D as well as the V. How do I know that you didn't just like me for my femininity?"

"To put it bluntly?" Cato asked. Peeta nodded. "Because I daydreamed about ploughing your ass, not your pussy."

Peeta blinked, as if the words didn't seem to connect up right in his brain. A small smile grew on his face. "I wouldn't object to that," he said quietly. Cato grinned. "I suppose it would be nice to get out after so long but what if people don't accept me? I have been hiding for a very long time."

"Trust me," Cato said, "they're going to love you."

**A/N: Soooo, thoughts? I hope questions were answered in this chapter and I hope you guys enjoyed reading it :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: A very sexually charged chapter, especially nearing the end. Thanks again for your support of this story!**

**Warning: Masturbation. I don't even know if masturbation should be a warning but I'm doing it just in case.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Three**

"So, what's he like?"

Cato shrugged. Clove had been desperate for answers all day, asking numerous questions all at once, not sure which she wanted him to answer first. "He's just any ordinary guy, Clove," said Cato. "Just a guy who has prefered being on his own for a long time."

Clove narrowed her eyes. "Then why is he coming out all of a sudden?"

They were walking down the street, on the way to Peeta's house. Cato had made an agreement with Peeta that they'd bring him outside slowly. Starting with a short walk around the village. Mostly this would prove that the villagers weren't going to turn pyschic and immediately know that he used to be Perry Lorana. Cato also wanted to introduce Peeta to someone to widen his social circle so he asked if he would meet Clove. He had initially expected Peeta to say no but he surprised him by saying yes.

Cato went up the steps to Peeta's house while Clove waited by the gate. She wasn't all that nervous about meeting, to her, that mysterious man who never left his house. Cato admired her for that. She was open to anything. And he knew for a fact that if he were to tell her the real reason as to why Peeta hid inside his house, she wouldn't bat an eyelash. But he wasn't going to do that. It wasn't his place to tell Clove anything. He wouldn't do that to Peeta anyway.

When he knocked, there wasn't as long a pause before Peeta answered. The clothes he was wearing weren't as large as yesterday but weren't fitting either. His shirt was a little bit baggy but not so much that it would cause suspicion. And instead of jeans he was wearing cargo trousers that didn't cling. Ah, clever. He seemed relieved to see Cato standing on his doorstep.

"Hi Cato," he said.

Cato grinned. "Hey Peeta," he replied. "How are you?"

"Good. You?"

"Good." Cato stepped out of the way of the doorway. "You sure you're okay to do this?"

Peeta nodded. "Yes," he said. He stepped outside and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight. Cato shut the door behind him.

"Right, Peeta, this is my good friend Clove," Cato explained as they walked down the steps again.

Clove waved. "S'up Peeta," she said. As they shook hands, she added, "Just for the record, I don't normally say s'up, it just sort of came out."

"Pleased to meet you Clove," Peeta said unsurely.

"No need to sound so nervous," Clove assured. "Trust me, you're probably more sane than Cato and I combined. You may have stayed in your house for two years but we once ended up in hospital for two weeks because we stuck cardboard wings to a box and were so convinced it would fly that we went to the roof of Cato's house and pushed it off. With us inside."

Cato pulled a face at the memory. _Well gee Clove, wait to get right in there with the embarrassing stories, why don't you(!)_

Peeta chuckled. "Oh, wow, were you really hurt?"

"Nah, we were more beat up about the fact that it couldn't fly than the fact that we nearly broke our spines," Clove answered.

"In retrospect, we should have double checked the paper engines," Cato said as they left Peeta's front yard and started walking along the pavement.

"And the plastic hydraulics," Clove added. They continued in silence for a while. Cato felt hyper-aware of every move Peeta made, worried that he would lose himself any second and run back to his house. Cato had noticed that as soon as he had let go of Clove's hand, Peeta had immediately crossed his arms across his chest as if she would be able to see that he had bound himself.

It was a nice day to be out. The sun was shining and everything had an upbeat gleam to it. Days like this made Cato feel a lot more happy than usual. Hopefully it would have the same affect on Peeta. Maybe it will help him see that the outside world really isn't that scary.

"So are you coping okay?" Clove asked after a while. "This place can be very daunting at first."

"It's . . . nice," Peeta replied.

Nice. Nice was good, right? "Well, we got lucky weather wise," said Cato. "Or else we'd all be huddled under an umbrella." Oh, real smooth, talking about the _weather_. Clove bit back a smirk and Cato resisted the urge to jab her ribs. Back to the point . . . "Really, the village is like any other. A new park has been built for the children but other than that it's just shops and houses really." He knew that Peeta probably remembered this from when he was younger but he had to make it look like he had never been out in the village before.

Peeta played along, nodding as they walked as if he were consuming new information. "The breeze feels nice," he said under his breath. It was so quiet that only Cato heard it. He hadn't even noticed that there was a breeze. Staying holed up in a house for so long probably meant a deeper appreciation of things not experienced in a long time.

"Did you not even open a window?" he asked.

"I never thought to," Peeta answered.

"For two years?" asked Clove.

"I have a very occupied mind."

Clove shrugged. "I wouldn't do it too often myself. I can't stand the idea of moths and things getting into my house. It's bad enough that they can weasel in on their own."

They arrived at the edge of the main part of the village. Cato decided to stop to give Peeta a moment to get his bearings together. The main village could be quite busy at the best of times, with people milling around just doing their daily business. "You still good?" he asked.

"I think so," Peeta replied.

"If anyone stares, just flip 'em off," Clove said. "They should mind their own anyway."

"She's right. It's no one's business but your own why you've been in your house for so long," said Cato. Peeta looked at him when he said this, chewing on his lip anxiously. He was searching for a hint of a lie. A lie Cato was sure he couldn't find.

When they started walking again, Clove started humming the words to 'A Whole New World' from Disney's Aladdin. Cato rolled his eyes. What in the world was going through her head? Peeta chuckled. "Oh my god, I haven't heard that song in years," he said.

"Got to love Disney," answered Clove.

"I used to prefer the Grimm Brother's fairytales when I was younger," Cato said.

"Ooh those stories give me the heebie jeebies, especially the originals," Clove shivered.

Peeta hadn't noticed that they had started walking again. "Some may have been creepy but the idea was to find the beauty in the madness," he said. "That's why it appeals to children more than adults, because it's easier for them."

"I never thought of it like that," Cato said.

"A bit too deep for me," Clove added. She waved at one of her friends as they passed by before shoving her hands into her pockets. "So Peeta, what do you think you're going to do now that you're out in the open?"

Cato tried not to wince at her choice of words. Out in the open, God, only Clove would come out with that without thinking about it. "We were discussing the possibility yesterday of getting a job," he explained. "I said there was a position open at the newsagents."

"Oh yeah," Clove said. "I could put your name in with the owner if you like. We'll work the same shifts so if anyone causes any trouble I'll punch them in the face. Outside of the shop obviously because I'm saving up for a motorcycle."

Peeta stared at his shoes. "I suppose," he said.

"You sound as enthusiastic as a criminal going to the lethal injection," said Clove. "It's good pay. £20 a week." £20 a week . . . How many weeks would that take to have enough for the transition surgery? Cato was going to have to look up the numbers later. "Tips not included. And on a good day we can collect ten pounds in tips alone. Well, five since we'd have to share now but that's not too bad."

"There's that or you could come on plumbing jobs with me," Cato suggested. "But trust me, that sucks."

"At least in the shop we can pour over cheesy girl magazines and point out what's been airbrushed while eating Fredos behind the owner's back," Clove pointed out. "It's more fun that it sounds."

"It sounds very fun," said Peeta.

"Is that a yes?" Clove asked.

Peeta nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

They passed a news stand. Clove pulled to a stop to talk to the guy selling the papers. Cato recognized him as an ex that she was still friendly with. Peeta lingered nervously behind Cato. His eyebrows screwed up in confusion and he reached out and took a paper.

"Peeta, I wouldn't," Cato quickly said but it was too late.

Were missing person's anniversary of disappearance usually on the front cover of a newspaper? Clove must have cut the picture of Perry out from the front of her daily paper. Because there it was, on the front, with the same girl standing outside the village chapel, not the single hint of a smile on her face. Along the top was, _**Have you seen me?**_

Peeta's face was unreadable as his eyes examined the picture. The picture must have stuck a nerve. "Peeta," Cato said gently. "Are you okay?"

"I've got to go," Peeta said, putting the paper down. He looked at Cato with sad eyes. "Thank you trying but I really can't do this."

"No, wait." Cato tried to stop him from leaving but he pulled his arm away. "It's okay."

"No, it's really not," Peeta replied, backing up the way they came. "I really appreciate the effort but this isn't going to work. I'm-I'm sorry."

"Peeta, you don't have to go-"

"Yes I do." His arms, which had rested comfortably by his sides since the converation about fairytales began, crossed themselves back over his chest. "I'm sorry." He turned and started to run.

"Peeta!" Cato called after him. Peeta ignored him and disappeared around the corner. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should have known to steer clear of the newspapers. At least they got somewhere, Cato supposed. At least Peeta went outside, even if it was for the shortest amounts of time. Next time Cato was going to buy himself some common sense and actually take the time to think about what might actually be a trigger in Peeta's eyes.

"What happened?" Clove asked.

"He's just . . . adjusting . . ." Cato replied.

"I suppose it's hard," said Clove. "Going outside after spending so much time inside the house. Maybe we should have just circuited around the village instead going straight through it."

"I'm going to go and check on him," Cato said.

Clove nodded. "Okay, I have to get to the shop anyway," she said. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Cato followed the path Peeta took up the street and returned to his house. Everything seemed to the exact same as the previous day when he first arrived. "Peeta!" he called. "Peeta, are you alright?" The wood around the doorknob was splintered, as if it had been slammed shut. Cato pressed his fingers against the door and it pushed open. Peeta must have threw the door shut behind him and it must have been with such force that the snib didn't click.

"Peeta," Cato popped his head around the door, "Peeta, I'm sorry about the newspapers, I should have thought about that. Are you okay?"

"Just go away Cato, this is never going to work," Peeta replied. It took Cato a moment to locate him. He was curled up on the sofa, his face buried in his knees. Cato did the exact opposite and came into the house, shutting the door properly behind him. He sat down beside him on the sofa.

"Peeta, it was just a small mishap," he insisted. "You were doing so well."

"They're still advertising me being _missing_?" Peeta was horrified, Cato could hear it in his tone of voice. "It's been four years, how can they still be trying to find her?"

"Four years exactly, that's the only reason her picture is in the papers," Cato explained.

"What if someone looks at me out there, someone who _really_ knew Perry, and sees her in me? It wouldn't be too difficult. I'm still trapped in her body," Peeta was bodering hysterical, the very idea of being identified as Perry again frightening him more than anything else ever could.

"Peeta, they won't, trust me," insisted Cato. He took Peeta's hand and squeezed it. "All they'll see is you. Peeta. Not Perry."

"I want to believe you, but I really can't," Peeta murmured in reply.

"Whatever part of you is doubting me, don't listen to it." Cato reached out and cupped Peeta's cheek. The skin was baby smooth, this being something that probably disgusted Peeta. "You_ can_ do this."

"The part of me that's doubting it the part that I'm supposed to listen to," whispered Peeta.

"What part is that?"

"My mind."

"If your mind is doubting, what isn't?"

Peeta closed his eyes and breathed out, the words coming out like a whisper of wind brushing a leaf across the Autumn ground. "My body."

"Which part has always been more relieable?" Cato asked.

"My body," answered Peeta, "because that's where my heart is."

"Well, let your heart feel this." Cato took a risk and leaned forward, pressing his lips against Peeta's in a quick peck. When he pulled back, the young boy's eyes studied him carefully, trying to find a motive or joke. When he couldn't find it, he grabbed Cato's face and kissed him back, hard.

Cato hadn't made out with someone in a very long time but with Peeta it all came back to him. It was kind of like his brain shut down for a moment, only to reboot seconds later with all the previous info still intact. It kind of felt like High School again, making out on the couch, lost in an ectasy enduced euphoria where the only thing that mattered was his partner's lips. Only ten times more intense. He was so eager that he was almost breathing_ for_ Peeta as they kissed.

Peeta was surprsingly forceful, getting onto his knees on the sofa and pushing Cato onto his back without breaking the kiss for a second. Not that he minded. Everything was happening very quickly, all limbs and lips and teeth. Maybe it was because Peeta had spent four years living a life of celibacy, even the slightest piece of sexual content driving him wild.

Cato gripped Peeta's hair to keep him pressed against him, while his other hand wound around his back and pulled his hips flush against his own. Peeta groaned, fisting Cato's shirt in his hands and swivelling his hips against his crotch.

"Peeta," Cato said when they broke away for air, "maybe we should slow down a bit."

Peeta nodded breathlessly. "I agree," he answered. Instead of letting go of his hair, Cato pulled Peeta's head down against his chest and pet the mess of golden locks affectionately. "Thank you though . . . I've never done that with someone before."

"You don't have to say thank you for it," Cato said. "But I get that you probably won't want to do anything further than just that until after you get your surgery." Peeta didn't answer. His eyes were fluttering tiredly. "Hey, sleepy head, you want me to go so you can get some sleep?"

"I _am_ tired but I'm not sure I want you to go," answered Peeta, sounding sheepish.

"Well . . . this couch is pretty comfy," said Cato. "I could stay here for the night."

"Really? You don't think it would be inappropriate?" asked Peeta.

"No, inappropriate would be me sharing a bed with you. It's just the couch," Cato explained. "So go on, hop to it. You're going to need the sleep. Tomorrow I'm going to show you the shop Clove works at."

Peeta nodded. "Okay," he said. He climbed off Cato and picked at his shirt. Cato realized then that it wasn't the shirt he was picking at, it was the compression bandages binding his chest. "Thank you . . . For not giving up on me."

Cato smiled. "I won't ever give up on you."

~xXx~

Peeta hated who he was.

He stood away from the mirror in his room as he undid the bandages, hating that he had to take them off before he went to sleep. Why couldn't there be such thing as chest binders that were healthy and didn't warp your ribcage if left on too long? Peeta closed his eyes once the bandages were off and pulled his pyjama shirt over his head. He wore boxer shorts as underwear and to bed because they were comfortable and made him feel a lot better about himself.

He didn't know why he shut his eyes. He had lived nineteen years with breasts but only recently had they started developing and becoming more pronounced due to puberty. Sometimes he considered risking sleeping with his chest bound but he knew it was a stupid thing to do.

As he lay in bed, he couldn't help thinking about what happened with Cato earlier. Where had that come from? He had never been sexually intimate with someone-for the obvious reasons-and never thought it would feel so good. But he had always thought that doing that sort of thing with someone while still in this body would have been repulsive. But it hadn't. Sure, he'd have done it if he had his surgery by now, maybe have even said no when Cato suggested taking it slow, but still in Perry's body? Never. And yet for Cato it was different.

He was still feeling flustered from what had happened, but he couldn't do anything about it. Sure, when he was younger-maybe fourteen, fifteen-and still lived under the title of Perry Lorana, he occasionally touched himself, but ever since he ran away he hadn't. It wasn't because he was repulsed by her body, it was because it didn't seem fair. Since he was a _boy_, not a girl. Not everyone who wanted to transition were disgusted in how they looked. They weren't disgusted by lady parts, it was just that it didn't feel right. And that's what Peeta felt. He wasn't disgusted, he just felt wholly _wrong_. Why was he given the body of a girl if he was a boy? Was it a challenge? A curse? A punishment?

It had only been two days, and yet Peeta had gotten attached to Cato. Maybe it was because he was the first and only person who knew his primary identity and didn't address him as Perry. Because there are people out there who would insist that he was still her, because he had her body. Sometimes he wondered if it was all worth it, if he should just come out as Perry and be dragged back into a life of make-up and dresses, but Cato had changed that. It made Peeta 100% sure that there were good people out there. People who understand what he wanted to do. Even if these people were difficult to find, they were definitely out there, somewhere.

And _god_ was Cato hot.

Peeta threw the duvet cover over his head and shut his eyes. He thought about earlier, when he was ontop of Cato and their hips were flush against each other's. He let his hand travel down his body and slip underneath his boxer shorts, where he found himself dripping with want. God, he hadn't felt like this before. Was it normal? He had never really listened to the sex talk in school because he had always been put with the girls and he hardly cared about how his body worked because he knew he was in the wrong one. Now he really wished that he had.

Curious, he let himself explore the unfamiliar terrain that was his own genitals. It was so sticky and messy, one of the many reasons he preferred a male's body. His finger grazed something sensitive, sending a jolt through his being, and a small whimper escaped from his mouth. He bit his fist. Why was he doing this _now_? He had two years in this house on his own and only_ now_, when someone was actually_ in_ the house, he was deciding to explore his body?

But Peeta couldn't help it. On some level, he believed it was his attraction to Cato that awoke this side of him. He had never thought about doing this before Cato had arrived. Plus, he needed to know more about this body, if he was ever going to be intimate with Cato in the future. Because it could be years before he gathered enough money for top surgery, genital surgery _and_ the injection of testorones. And he certainly wasn't going to wait _years_ just to start a relationship with Cato.

Cato did want a relationship, right? He had said that he had a crush on him . . .

When he tentatively touched that sensitive area again, the shock it caused felt better the second time. His other fingers joined in, touching and rubbing the small sensitive area, his body getting unbearably hot because of the amazing pleasure it caused. His hips lifted off the mattress and a small groan escaped him. He suddenly imagined it was Cato doing this to him, and not himself, and the delirium increased.

Peeta had never thought that he could make himself feel even the tiniest bit good trapped in this body but he was proving himself wrong. Imagining being touched in this way by Cato made his toes curl in want, his own fingers causing a thrill he hadn't felt in years. Even when he did this when he was Perry, never had it been on this big a scale.

His muscles coiled and he had to bite his duvet to muffle a pleasured scream as his body released. He was soaked in sweat, panting to catch breath he couldn't find. He pushed the duvet away from his face so he could breath properly and pulled his hand out of his underwear. Now he was definitely tired.

He examined his hand and turned his nose up at the clear liquid coating his fingers. Why was self-pleasure always so messy?

_Then again, it will be messier once you get your surgery. _

He grabbed a tissue from his bedside cabinet and dried his fingers, throwing it away into the bin when he was finished. He felt sensitive all over now, even his breasts which he hadn't touched were aching a little bit from the aftermath. His nipples had hardened and when he shifted even the tiniest of bits and his shirt grazed them, they gave a little twinge of pleasure of their own.

Peeta decided that he was never going to masturbate again. Until he got the surgery anyway.

But as long as Cato was in his life, he had a feeling that he was lying to himself.

~xXx~

Cato woke up in a cold sweat. For a second he panicked as he forgot where he was but it slowly came back to him that he was in Peeta's living room. He had the weirdest dream. Well, _weird_ wasn't the right word. He quite enjoyed the dream actually, but now that he was awake and aware again, he felt kind of guilty.

In the dream, he was having sex with Peeta. The younger blond was riding him, holding onto the headboard of the bed while Cato fucked his ass. In the dream, Peeta hadn't went through the transition yet. He had breasts, which weren't bound up and bounced along with his riding, and every so often he'd let go of the headboard with one hand to rub his clit.

Cato's fingers had dug into the young boy's soft behind, pulling him down onto him hard. He'd every so often cup a breast in his hand, squeezing the fleshy mound and pinching the pink nipples that sat ontop. Peeta's moans were loud and hot, his body clenching as he prepared for release. Cato pulled him closer, nipping at the boy's nipples with his teeth and tugging a little so he'd cry out with want. He removed Peeta's hand from himself and took over for him, dipping his fingers inside of him and rubbing his sensitive body until he came with a loud scream.

That's when Cato woke up.

He felt horrible. Peeta hated his body and yet here Cato was having wet dreams about having sex with him before he had the transition surgery. Cato wasn't attracted to the feminity of his body, this was definite, it was just in the dream he was determined to make Peeta feel good which ultimately meant using the assets the female body provided. Plus, with his breasts out and his hand rubbing himself, the main thing Cato had been focusing on was how hot and tight Peeta's ass was.

God, this was so confusing. Did this mean that he was a bad person? Would Peeta turn away from him in shame if he knew that he had a dream of such a provocative nature about him? Would he think that it was because he had a woman's body still? Cato dreaded to think about what would happen then. It _wasn't_ because he had a female form, it was because he was the sexiest boy he had ever met.

Somehow, Cato knew that if Peeta found out he wouldn't think of it that way.

Cato glanced at the clock. It read 12:00pm. He sat up on the sofa and ran his fingers through his hair. Upstairs, he could still hear soft snoring. Peeta must still be sleeping. Well, if he wants to see Clove's shop then they're going to have to get moving.

Cato dragged himself off the sofa and stretched out his cramped muscles. The sofa was comfortable enough but there's always a certain extent you can take before your body starts to complain. He went upstairs, wincing as every step creaked. He wasn't sure why, since he was going up to wake Peeta up anyway, but he didn't want to do it so soon. Like every second of sleep was precious.

When he reached Peeta's room, he gently rapped on the door with his knuckles. "Peeta," he said softly, opening the door as he spoke. "Peeta, time to get up-"

He stopped.

He wasn't sure why he stopped.

The compression bandages were folded up on the bedside table beside a box of tissues. Why had this stopped him? Peeta _had_ said that he had to take it off when he was sleeping or it would be bad for his health. That meant that . . . No, stop it Cato, just wake him up.

When he stepped further into the room, Peeta turned in his sleep to lie on his back as if reacting to the sound of him moving. The duvet was tangled around his knees, showing off a slim body wearing red boxer shorts and a grey t-shirt. His face was peaceful, his eyes fluttering a little bit as evidence that he was deeply asleep, his mouth curled up in a blissful smile.

Cato felt that it was almost a sin to wake him. Unable to control themselves, his eyes slid down the delightable curve of the young boy's neck and collarbone to lie on his chest.

Okay, so his breasts were a lot bigger than Cato had first thought. His chest was shapely, nipples pebbled and straining against his pyjama shirt. It must be so painful to bind them up every day. Cato didn't know how Peeta did it and managed to not show a flicker of discomfort on his face. Maybe that's what came with feeling trapped in a never ending cycle of pain, you grow accustomed to the discomfort.

Cato suddenly realized that he was very much acting like a perv. And knowing that Peeta wouldn't appreciate being oggled, certainly not in the morning without the bandages on, Cato covered his eyes with his hand to enforce the idea that he hadn't been looking at all, and nudged Peeta gently, "Peeta, wake up."

"No," came the mumbled reply.

Oh, he had the sexiest sleepy voice Cato had ever heard.

"Come on, it's midday, rise and shine."

There was a pause and then a horrified gasp. "You're in my room!" Peeta exclaimed.

"Well, yeah. I've been here before, remember? I just wanted to wake you up."

"You didn't . . . see anything, did you?"

"No," Cato lied. "I didn't."

Another pause.

"Sorry, I just don't really realize when I'm sleeping that I have anything to cover," Peeta explained. "You can go now, I'll get changed. If you want, you can borrow some of my bigger clothes to wear."

"Okay, thanks."

Cato exited the room and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Peeta had a beautiful body, whether it be feminine or not, and he knew that when he got his surgery to be the man he wants to be, it will be even better because he will be comfortable with himself. Sure, now he was beautiful, but when he becomes secure and confident in himself and his looks, he was going to be gorgeous.

And Cato was going to make him his.

**A/N: So thoughts? I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I hope it portrayed the confusion and inner termoil that both boys are currently experiencing, especially concerning their sexual desires.**

**Please R&R?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Wow, all of you guys are amazing. Thank you so much for your brilliant feedback. I can't tell you enough how much my friend appreciates it. He's delighted you guys are so accepting and welcoming of his story :)**

**Warnings: Mistreatment, nude photography, painful backstory.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Four**

**Four Years Ago: Six months After Perry Lorana's disappearance:**

Peeta wished he was dead.

When he ran away, he thought he was going to find salvation. Instead he was stuck working in a pub with greasy old men who couldn't keep their hands to themselves. His boss, a man named Gloss Aria, thought that his youth was refreshing, not caring that he was fifteen going on sixteen. He had gave Peeta the waitressing job without a second thought.

Even though the money was good, Peeta was still in hell.

The skimpy costume Gloss made him wear was disgusting. A tight bodice that pushed his chest up and a short frilly skirt that barely covered his backside. The punters were big fans of the costume and the opportunities it gave to grope bare skin. It was very difficult not to recoil every time a rough hand grazed his thighs or fingers dug into his ass. It wasn't like he could file a sexual harrassment claim, Gloss was worse than the punters themselves. Every night, after they closed up, when Peeta would get out of the stupid costume and back into his own clothes, he would catch Gloss stopping at the doorway and peering, licking his lips almost predatorily before disappearing again.

So when Peeta met Marvel Wittaker at the bar and was offered a modelling job, he didn't hesitate before taking it. Sure, he'd be modelling as Maddy-his change of name so they didn't realize who he was- but at least he'd get good money and wouldn't be groped every five minutes. He handed Gloss his week's notice and actually enjoyed his job a lot more once he knew that he was leaving.

When he was getting changed for the last time, Gloss came into the back room and insisted upon helping. Peeta didn't even get a chance to answer before the man was pulling down the zipper and slipping his hands underneath the bodice. He squirmed a little bit in protest but the man was strong.

"I know you want me girl," Gloss had purred in his ear, his hands enclosing his breasts and pushing him against his body. He squeezed his boobs hard, mouthing at his ear and pressing his knee up against his crotch.

Peeta stamped on his foot and pushed him away, zipping the bodice back up despite the fact that he hated the damn thing. "Stay away from me," he threatened. "I'm not that kind of bo-_girl_."

Gloss grinned and produced a wad of notes. The sight of the money made Peeta fall silent. How much was that? It looked like it would be more than enough for the surgery . . . "Are you that sort of girl now?" he teased. Peeta tried to grab the money but Gloss held it out of reach. "You want it? You're going to have to earn it."

That's how Peeta ended up sucking the dick of a man he barely knew. Gloss tried to touch him a couple of times but he refused to let him, smacking his hands away and using his tongue more to distract him. He escaped with the money clutched in his hands. The money that would change his life forever.

The money that ended up being only twenty quid of valid notes. The rest were fakes.

At least he still had the modelling job.

The only way was up.

~xXx~

The modelling job turned out to not be what he thought it was going to be.

Marvel convinced him that the pictures were tasteful, which Peeta had believed. He had been only sixteen at the time, so he believed anything he was told. And since he wasn't going to have his female body for much longer, he didn't think it would be too bad posing for some pictures since no would know it was him when he transitioned.

The poses did start off tasteful. Even though his clothes were off, the poses were stragetically designed to cover any intimate part of his body. Arms over chest, legs crossed so crotch wasn't on display, etc. etc. Peeta even started becoming close to Marvel on a romantic level. The man was so sweet and kind and seemed to geuninely have his interests at heart. Sometimes they'd just spend days talking together, chatting about nonesical things that had no matter what so ever.

Once Marvel had gained his trust, he began to abuse it.

He started making Peeta-or Maddy, as he called him-wear lingere that he didn't realize were a lot thinner than described. Peeta hated wearing them, it made him feel like a fish out of water, struggling to breathe when it was obvious he couldn't. But Marvel had insisted that it would bring in good money. So Peeta ignored his screaming conscious and put it on.

The lingere exposed a lot more than Peeta had realized, him only noticing when he passed the mirror to get changed after the shoot. His breasts were clearly on display and he didn't even need to look to know that his snatch was probably visible too. When he confronted Marvel about it, he feigned ignorance and acted shocked when he saw the pictures and their provocativity. And Peeta, being the naive sixteen year old he was, believed him.

"Go on, do it for me," Marvel insisted one day.

"I don't know Marvel," Peeta had said. They were doing another nude shoot and his arms were crossed anxiously around his chest. Marvel was trying to convince him to let his arms fall away, something he wasn't so sure about.

"Please Maddy, these pictures aren't going anywhere, they're just for me," pressed Marvel. Peeta loved Marvel very much and hated saying no to him so was very close to doing as he was asked. "Come on baby, you know you can trust me."

Peeta _did_ know that he could trust Marvel. He let his arms fall away, his nipples immediately hardening against the cold air of the room. Marvel took pictures like crazy, instructing Peeta to push his chest out more or stand a certain way.

But it all came crumbling down when he decided to tell Marvel about the transition surgery.

"You think you're a _what_?" he had asked.

"I don't _think_, I _know_," Peeta insisted. "I'm a boy."

"Maddy, I'm sorry babe, but you're a girl," Marvel said. "And no amount of surgery is going to change that."

"No, you don't understand. I was born a girl but I _am_ a boy," Peeta tried to explain. "I've just got to earn enough money for the transition surgery and then you'll see-"

"You're not using_ my_ money to buy some surgery to give yourself a dick," Marvel interuppted. "Not on my life."

"But Marvel, you don't understand-"

"Look Maddy," Marvel pushed Peeta in front of a mirror. He grabbed his breasts. "You've got tits-" he let go with one hand and grabbed his crotch-"and a pussy. You're a woman, not a man. You will_ always_ be a girl, no matter how many dicks you suck to get money for some surgery."

Peeta left Marvel after that, unable to even look at him properly without remembering the harsh words he said to him. _Always be a girl_ stuck in his head longer than anything else. _Always, always, always. You'll always be a girl._

He was determined to prove Marvel wrong.

~xXx~

After spending a year with Marvel, Peeta returned to Panem village and never left his house. He had earned just enough money from the photos to be able to get by but it was never going to be enough for his surgery. That's why he hid.

The night Cato stayed over was the first time he touched himself without worrying about the memories of Gloss and Marvel resurfacing. Techincally, they were both dead to him, and Peeta didn't bother even letting them ruin his non-existant sex life. But sometimes Marvel's words still lingered in his mind.

_Always be a girl._

Cato staying over in his house became a regular thing. Peeta felt bad asking him to stay but Cato was just as eager as he was, saying that he prefered his house over his own because the silence could be overwhelming. Both boys spent their nights on different levels of the house, mulling things they hadn't thought about in years over in their heads.

Peeta began experiencing the same wet dreams Cato had, of being fucked or ate out or fingered by the hunk on his couch. It left him deeply confused. He still wanted to be a man, but why was he having dreams about Cato pleasuring Perry's body instead of the one the surgery will give him? Maybe it was because it was all he had to show for himself right now.

Every day he'd go to the shop to work with Clove. Cato would walk him there and meet him at the end of his shift to walk him back home. Peeta was glad that Cato was with him because he didn't know if he'd be able to do any of this if he was on his own. He'd chicken out, thinking every glance taken his way meant that everyone knew that he used to be Perry Lorana.

Really, everyone was none the wiser. When he introduced himself to the people who frequented the newsagents, they'd smile and welcome him to the village instead of standing up and accusing him of being Perry like he feared that they would. It was nice, meeting new people and sticking to a certain routine. It was all uniform and planned out carefully and perfect.

And the kisses Cato stole from him every now and then weren't too bad either.

Peeta couldn't stop himself being nervous every time someone set foot in the shop but once he got to know people it was a lot easier to control. However, once Cato had unnintentionally awakened his hunger for intimacy, it could be hard to tame at times.

One day when it was extremely hot outside Cato had come in on his break to buy a bottle of water and check on him. His shirt had been damp with sweat and clung to the muscles in his torso in an unbelieveably sexy way. Peeta had ducked underneath the counter so he wouldn't see him blushing and let a smirking Clove convince Cato that he was in the bathroom.

Peeta really liked Clove. She was very funny and took shit from no one. He aspired to be like her someday. Confident in himself and brave enough to stand up for what he believed in. And be able to break her record of the amount of Fredos eaten in five minutes. Sometimes Peeta wondered what Clove would think if she found out his prior identity. He felt like she wouldn't shun him or treat him differently, but he had trusted people too quickly before and it certainly didn't turn out well.

"Want a slushie?"

Peeta looked up from the magazine he was reading. Clove was standing beside the Slushie machine, pouring herself a red and blue one. He shook his head. "No thanks."

"Suit yourself." Clove sucked on her straw as she examined the magazines on the rack by the birthday cards. She picked up one of the real-life ones that had articles about cheating husbands and crazy murders, basically Jeremy Kyle in magazine form. "I used to be a girl," she said.

Peeta looked at her in alarm, his heart doing a mini-backflip. Why had she said that? When Clove saw his reaction, she pointed at the magazine. "I used to be a girl," she repeated. She put it down onto the counter so Peeta could see it properly. He relaxed a little. It was just an article. "I don't know why we ordered these magazines, it'll give the geezers here a stroke."

Peeta looked at the picture of the boy on the front cover. There was a picture beside it because of what must have been a before picture. In the before photo, the young girl was all red curls and smiles, dispproving the popular opinion that trans-genders are constantly unhappy before their surgery. Because in most cases this isn't true. Some don't even realize that they're in the wrong body immediately. It took Peeta five years to realize, after all. He even remembered being given a rag doll when he was three and loving it so much. He left it behind when he ran away as his mother always threw it in his face as proof that he would always be a girl in her eyes.

Peeta glanced at Clove, who was wandering around the shop drinking her slushie nonsensically. "Wh-what would your opinion on that be?" he found himself asking.

"On what?" Clove asked.

"People wishing to c-change their gender."

Clove shrugged. "It's their life. It's hardly my place to judge what they wish to do with it," she said. "Although it wouldn't really be the most popular topics around here." She turned around and smiled. "The christian belief is that people are born the way they're born. I don't trust that. I think some people are born with an easy life, others are given a challenge. The end product being who you really are. The people who are trapped in the wrong bodies are given a challenge, a challenge a lot of them have the power to overcome. The only problem being that they must fight for the acceptance of society."

The nature of her words almost made Peeta tell her the truth. But he held back. Because for all he knew, she could be all talk. Those people who say they would treat people a certain way but change their mind when they're actually confronted with a situation as such. Even though he believed Clove wasn't doing this, he wasn't going to risk it.

"I don't know," Clove sighed. "I can't wait until I can get the hell out of this place."

"That sounds nice," Peeta admitted.

Clove returned to the slushie machine for a top up. "Have you ever even had one of these?" she asked.

"Not really," said Peeta.

"What?" Clove was astounded. "Not even when you were younger?"

"My mother said they were full of sugar," Peeta answered. Clove's mouth hung open in shock. She immediately took up another plastic cup.

"Blue or red?" she asked.

"Uh . . ."

"No wait, have both, they taste glorious together." Clove pulled the levers of both slushie flavours so both wnt into the same cup, and quickly handed it over to Peeta. He looked inside the cup skeptically, unsure about drinking it.

"It's just a bunch of ice and flavour," he said. "Are you sure it tastes good?"

"Trust me," Clove said. She dug a straw into his cup and grinned. "Go on."

New experiences, Peeta, that's all it is. New experiences. He carefully wrapped his lips around the straw and sucked up, the slushie immediately rushing up and into his mouth. It was extremely cold but mixed in with the flavour it actually didn't taste that bad.

"Like it?" asked Clove.

"It's actually nicer than I thought it would be," Peeta answered honestly. Clove took the cup back and stole a sip from it before handing it back.

"This is why I love this job. Mr Abnernathy doesn't count the product so we can take as much as we like. Fredos and slushies, this is good life Peet," she said. She turned and grinned. "Cato likes me to save him the candy dummies." She lowered her voice to a whisper, "It's his guilty pleasure."

Peeta smiled. He was starting to feel a little sweltered and when Clove turned back around to fill her slushie cup, he picked at the bandages around his chest in a feeble attempt to reduce the pressure. The bandage itself was beginning to twist a little bit so it twisted his skin in an extremely uncomfortable manner. "I'm going to go to the bathroom for a second."

"Okay dokey," Clove replied. "I'll still be here, probably going to be needing help refilling the machine once I'm finished with it."

"Right." Peeta went into the back room, where the bathroom once. He slid the lock shut behind him and made sure the door was secure. He had developed these little habits ever since he started going out in public. Since he had six hour shifts with Clove, he had to go into the bathroom a couple of times a day to loosen the bandages. Eight hours was the amount of time he could go with the compression bandages on but every few hours he had to loosen or adjust so that his posture wasn't affected nor was his skin or chest irritated from heat or extreme pressure. By this point, Peeta guessed that Clove thought he had a severe bladder problem.

The horrible thing about the bathroom in the shop was that there was a mirror. A mirror that was unavoidable in the small space of the bathroom. Peeta couldn't even shut his eyes, because he needed them open to see what he was doing.

Peeta stood in front of the mirror and tugged his shirt up, loosening the compression bandages and letting them fall to his waist for a moment. Despite the fact he hated his breasts being out, he couldn't deny that freeing them after being strapped up for so long was relieving. He fanned himself, feeling he was going to pass out from the extreme heat. Why had it been so warm lately? It was easier when this happened at home, when he didn't have to worry about people seeing him as he adjusted his bindings.

_You're a girl._

Peeta twitched, hating it when Marvel's voice came into his head. It was like when he had spoken those words to him, they were branded into his mind as a constant reminder that he was never going to be fully accepted. He hated himself for being so foolish when it came to trusting people when he had been younger . . .

Wait, wasn't that what he was doing with Cato? Jumping to conclusions because he was showing him kindness? But it was _different_ with Cato, it had to be. Cato wasn't disgusted in him, especially since he knew who he used to be and didn't treat him like an anomaly.

Peeta reluctantly looked at his reflection, hating what he saw. He wasn't looking at himself, he was looking at someone else. He still saw Perry Lorana. How much longer he'd be forced to see her, he wasn't sure, but he couldn't wait for the day that he'd look at himself in the mirror and actually _see himself._

"Peeta?" Clove's voice came from the other side of the door. "Peeta, are you okay?"

He jumped. "Oh yeah, I'm fine!" Peeta called back. He pulled the bandages back up and loosened them a little bit before going back into the main shop. Clove was tapping the machine with a confused expression.

"I think I broke it," she said.

Peeta chuckled. "Let me have a look at it." Clove stood back while he examined the state of the machine. The level seemed to be jammed. "This would be much easier if we had an oil can or something."

Two hands suddenly enclosed his eyes, shrouding everything in darkness. A chin came to rest on his shoulder. "Guess who?" a deep, masculine voice purred.

Peeta smiled. "I don't know, Santa Claus?" he teased.

"No," lips brushed his ear, "guess again."

"Mr Abernathy, you've certainly gotten intimate."

A chuckle. "I'll give you a clue, it's your wise, clever and extremely attractive dream man."

"I didn't know Channing Tatum was in Panem Village!"

Cato chuckled and wound his arms around his waist. "Give up?" he asked.

Peeta let his head fall against his shoulder. "Hello Cato," he said.

"Hey babe." Cato claimed his lips in a quick kiss, highlighted by the faux vomiting sounds Clove made in the background. While she was busy doing this, Cato murmured, "You doing okay?"

"Yeah," Peeta murmured back, "I'm fine."

Cato kissed him again. "Good." He reached forward and jiggled the lever. "Is this stuck then?"

"Yeah, Clove broke it."

"Did not!"

"Well, let me see if I can fix it." Cato put down his toolbox-which he seemed to carry with him everywhere-and started working on the machine. Peeta stepped back, leaning against the biscuit shelf. Clove appeared beside him, two Fredos in her hands. She handed him one and bit into her own.

"Some view, right?" she asked.

"What do you mea-oh, I see." They both simulataneously tilted their heads as Cato got onto his hands and knees to open up a compartment at the bottom.

"Thank the lord for skinny jeans, huh?" Clove grinned.

Peeta blushed, taking a sheepish bite out of his chocolate. Clove laughed and patted his shoulder.

Things were going to be just fine.

**A/N: R&R with your thoughts please! ^_^**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks again for your kind support! :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Five**

Cato was a very good kisser. He constantly took Peeta's breath away when they kissed, especially when it got intense and it could just be forty five minutes to an hour of pure making out. They were uncontrollable and crazy for each other's mouths, a clash of teeth and tongues, a symphony of hot moans and sensitive whimpers. It was forceful, severe, passionate . . .

And amazing.

Peeta knew that Cato was dying for more. It made him feel bad that he couldn't give him more. A part of him wanted to, but he knew he couldn't do it. Peeta knew Cato was bi-sexual but he was obviously attracted to him as a man, not a woman, and he didn't know if he could handle Cato looking at his body in disgust.

He allowed Cato's hands underneath his shirt but when they got too close to the compression bandages, Peeta found himself grabbing the hands and moving them back down to his lower back. Peeta didn't mind Cato's hands on his backside but sometimes they got very close to his front, which is when he'd intervene and move them up to his shoulders or down to behind his knees. He hoped Cato didn't take it the wrong way. It was completely unintentional and he hoped it didn't make Cato think that he didn't want his hands on him. Peeta hoped he understood why he kept moving his hands.

Sometimes it wasn't even his hands that were the problem. Cato's mouth occasionally got dangerously close to sensitive areas. Peeta knew he wasn't doing it to make him uncomfortable but he couldn't help guiding Cato's mouth back up to his own when it got very close to his chest. Cato himself didn't show any irritance or frustration at this, he took it at Peeta's pace and didn't force him into anything.

But did that mean that he was frustrated?

Peeta knew he was probably being bi-polar and confusing. When he made out with Cato, he'd get so hot and bothered that he'd rock back and forth against Cato without even realizing it. He knew that Cato himself obviously felt it and he knew that it was perplexing for him to be practically humping him while they're kissing but to move his hands every time he tried to touch him in certain places.

Because of his reluctance to let Cato touch him, Peeta touched himself a whole lot more. It was like a fever. Once the symptoms began, it just spread like a wildfire through his body.

Nearly every night he found himself with the covers strewn around him, one hand gripping the headboard of his bed while the other was constantly ventured through his moist depths because he was too much of a coward to let Cato do it for him. Peeta couldn't let Cato do it though. He wasn't entirely sure why. A large part of him was scared of him turning his nose up in disgust at his body, like he was repulsive. Someday he knew they would have to take that step, since the transition surgery money wasn't going to appear out of thin air and was probably going to take years to be earned. Just not now. Not yet.

A couple of nights after the slushie machine incident, Peeta fell asleep with his bandanges on. It had been an extremely hot day and after the six hour shift with Clove, he had been so shattered that he had literally passed out asleep in bed. When he woke up, his chest was screaming in pain. The room was shrouded in darkness and the heat had sucked all the oxygen out the area. Peeta panicked, gasping for breath that wouldn't reach his lungs properly. He felt like he had swallowed a wad of socks and when he tried to sit up, his chest screamed louder.

The pain had never been this bad before. Then again, he had never fell asleep with the compression bandages on before because he always knew that this would be the result. A severe suffocating sensation.

It hurt so much. He couldn't even sit up because his ribs were aching so much and his muscles were spasming. Peeta didn't react immediately, he tried to take a moment to calm down but it didn't work. He couldn't breathe. His chest was on fire. He felt like he was going to die.

He couldn't help screaming.

Almost immediately after screaming Cato's name, Peeta heard a loud thud and footsteps thumping upstairs. "Peeta? Peeta, what is it?" He burst into the room, rubbing his eye tiredly and trying to sort out his hair at the same time. "Oh my god, did you sleep with the bandages on?"

"H-Hurts," was all Peeta could manage to wheeze out. Cato climbed onto the bed and tried to pull his shirt up. Peeta freaked out, smacking his hands away from the bandages. "Don't!"

"Peeta, you're in pain, stop it," Cato said firmly.

"N-No, it's not-not too bad, don't touch the ba-bandages!" Peeta couldn't yell but he hoped he could convey his panic through his tone.

"Stop being ridiculous, you're going to break your ribs if you keep them on any longer," Cato insisted.

"Ill-I'll do it on my ow-own then," mumbled Peeta. When he moved his arms to try and push it down to his waist, he cried out in agony as it felt like a brick had been dropped on his chest.

Peeta burst into tears. He couldn't control it. He didn't want Cato to take the bandages off. He didn't want him to see his chest without them on. He wasn't prepared for rejection, not yet.

Cato looked pained to see him in such a state. He gently cupped his cheek and wiped the tears away with his thumb. "Sssh," he said, "it's okay."

"Don't take it off pl-please," Peeta begged. "I'm not ready yet."

"Baby, I'm sorry, I have to."

Ignoring his protests, Cato unstrapped Peeta's compression bandages, smiling when the younger boy gasped in relief as his lungs filled with air. Peeta closed his eyes and gulped the air down like one would with a glass of water. Cato got off the bed for a moment and opened the window, letting some fresh air seep in and lower the room's temperature.

The pressure eased off his chest but Peeta refused to meet Cato's gaze. "Does that feel better?" asked Cato.

"Yeah," Peeta mumbled. His breasts still hurt a little bit and his chest was a little tight but now that the bandages weren't squeezing the life out of him, he felt much better.

"Your skin looks very inflammed, I'd sleep with your shirt up and duvet away from the irritated area, at least for tonight," Cato continued. Peeta frowned to himself. Why wasn't he disgusted? Telling him that he looked horrible or strange? Why was he acting unfazed, like there was nothing wrong with him?

"Okay."

A pause. "Why won't you look at me?"

"Hmm? Sorry?" asked Peeta, pretending he hadn't heard him right.

"Why won't you look at me? You're avoiding looking at me," said Cato.

"I just . . . I just . . . I just wasn't ready for you to see my chest, okay?" he admitted.

"Peeta, look at me."

"No."

"Open your eyes."

"I don't want to."

The bed creaked as Cato leaned over the younger boy, wishing more than anything that he'd open his eyes so he could see those deep blue orbs again. "Peeta, you're always going to be gorgeous in my eyes, you don't have to hide," he insisted. Cato saw nothing wrong with his chest. His bare breasts were supple, voluptuous and creamy, topped with two perked, pink nipples. Cato had seen boobs before, but they had nothing on Peeta's burgeoning chest.

"You're just lying to make me feel better. You said you were attracted to me as a man, which means a man's body, not a woman's," Peeta muttered.

"I don't care what body you have or what body you choose to have," Cato answered. "You're always going to be beautiful to me." He leaned forward and kissed the top of each breast, listening to the tiny gasp he got in reponse. "You're still going to be that sexy boy whose sink I unclogged."

When Peeta didn't open his eyes, Cato sighed and stood up, ready to go downstairs again. "Cato?"

He turned at the door. Peeta was sitting upright, his arms crossed to cover his chest again. Cato could make out a pink flush that had set in just above where he had kissed "Will you stay?" he asked.

Cato smiled and sat down on the bed again, leaning against the head board and letting Peeta get comfortable beside him. The younger blond snuggled beside him, resting his head on his chest and slowly falling asleep again. Cato kissed the top of his head. It broke his heart that Peeta hated his body so much. He didn't know how long it would take before they could pay for the surgery and he didn't know if he'd be able to control himself around Peeta for much longer . . .

~xXx~

Cato had another erotic dream that night.

Peeta was sitting on his lap and they were making out sensually, their tongues circling and seeking each other. The younger boy pulled away and smirked, before reaching behind him and undoing the compression bandages around his chest, letting it fall away and free his boobs.

His alabaster skin was flushed with arousal, tinting the pale flesh pink. The brazenly exposed breasts hardened against the cold and Peeta took Cato's hand, placing it on his aching bosom and begging, "Touch me," in a low, rough voice.

Cato spent a particular amount of time in the dream paying attention to Peeta's breasts. He weighed them in his hands, squeezing ever so slightly, just enough to get him to gasp in surprise. He teased the younger boy by rubbing the sensitive flesh with his hands, catching a nipple between his fingers and rolling gently so he'd whine with want.

He slipped his hand into Peeta's underwear and skimmed his finger along his slick folds. Peeta whimpered, winding his arms around Cato's neck and holding tight. He partially pushed a finger inside, internally groaning at how wet he was. He used his thumb to graze his clitorius, smiling when Peeta moaned in reponse.

When he woke up, Cato decided he was going to have to talk to Peeta.

Later that day they sat across from each other in the kitchen. Peeta was on his day off so they didn't have to worry about being disturbed. His chest was bound up again and Cato couldn't understand why, since he had nearly suffocated the previous night from the bandages crushing him to death.

"I think there's an elephant in the room," Cato admitted.

Peeta nodded in agreement, playing with his fingernails sheepishly. "Yeah," he agreed.

"I won't force you into anything you don't want to do," Cato started off, "but I would like to know where we stand in this relationship on an intimate level."

"What do you mean?" asked Peeta.

"Well, do you want to wait until you have your surgery before we start being intimate or do you not mind doing things like that in the body you're currently in?" Cato enquired.

Peeta shrugged. "I dunno," he mumbled. "I don't hate Perry's body, if that's what you mean. The pretence for what I want to do is based on the fact that I feel wrong in her body. I just . . . wouldn't starting that sort of thing with you be proving everyone right that I don't need to have the surgery and could get on with life just fine as Perry?"

Cato shook his head. "I wouldn't think so. It could be years before we gather enough money for the transition. I don't mind waiting that long if that's what you want but are you sure that we could actually make it for years without trying . . . anything?"

"I always felt like if I started being intimate with someone, while still in this body, it would make out as if I don't want to become a boy as much as I make out," explained Peeta. "Like I'm just being a drama queen or something."

Cato reached across the table and took Peeta's hand. "Baby, I _know_ that you want to become a boy with all of your heart, and whether we start having sex now or not won't change that, I swear."

"But you said that you were attracted to me as a man," Peeta insisted. "Not a woman. If we start now, you're going to be touching lady parts."

"What did I say last night?" Cato asked. "I don't care if you have the body of a man or a woman or even an _alien_, I still like you a lot and I want to take that next step with you. But if you're not ready I understand and am prepared to wait until you are."

Peeta smiled. "I suppose we could try," he admitted.

Cato smiled back. "You'll like it, I promise," he said.

After he convinced Peeta that there was nothing wrong with being sexually intimate with the body he was currently in, and that he wouldn't change his mind about their relationship after the surgery, their sex life got a lot better. Except without . . . you know . . . the actually getting down to their . . . sexes . . . part . . .

The first time they got remotely intimate was no where near under the belt. Most of the time was soley focused on Cato trying to get Peeta to let him see his chest again.

"You know I'm not going to judge you," Cato had said. They were standing in front of the mirror in Peeta's bedroom, his arms securely wound around the younger boy's waist.

"I know," replied Peeta. The bandages were off but Peeta's arms were crossed across his chest. His cheeks were beautifully flushed, the pink also staining his neck and chest. "It's just the last person who I let see my chest turned his nose up at me when I told him about the transition."

"I won't do that to you and you know it," Cato assured.

"I know," Peeta repeated. "I'm just worried they're not good enough for you and you'll be stuck with boring breasts until I get the transition surgery."

"Peeta, I saw your chest already, remember? Trust me, they're not boring," Cato insisted. "Are you sure you're ready to do this? Because we can stop and try again when you're ready if you want-"

"No, it's now or never," Peeta interuppted. He closed his eyes and exhaled before letting his arms fall away.

In the daylight, the pert mounds on his chest looked even more beautiful. They looked full and soft, rising with every breath he took. The ivory skin looked like satin, like it would feel impossibly smooth to touch. The rosy buds on top were perky and turgid.

"Can I . . . would you mind if I . . .?" Cato struggled to find the words that said, _'Can I touch them?'_ politely. "Would it be okay if I put my hands . . ."

"Just touch them Cato," Peeta chuckled, his eyes still closed and his voice breathy.

Cato enclosed the pale flesh in his hands, unsure with what to do with himself. Sure, he'd been with girls in the past. He'd squeezed, suckled, bitten, reshaped and on one occasion because she asked smacked their breasts but he didn't feel like this was the right approach with Peeta, especially since he was insecure about his body, chest in particular.

Peeta's breathing was laboured, his hands coming to rest over Cato's. "I don't know what to do," Cato found himself confessing.

"Neither do I," Peeta whispered.

"Now that you know for sure that I've seen them, I can assure you that your breasts are not boring," said Cato. "They're beautiful."

Instead of denying it, Peeta actually smiled. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Cato slowly but surely began to knead, massaging the sensitive flesh in his hands. Peeta purred-really, he purred, it was so sexy-at the feeling and leaned his back against Cato's front. "They're not just beautiful, you're beautiful, all of you, body and mind," Cato murmured into his ear, along with a further string sweet nothings. He couldn't help it, the words of praise just poured out.

He could only hope that Peeta was listening.

~xXx~

"You haven't fucked yet?" Clove was astounded. She almost dropped her coffee cup in surprise. "You haven't fucked yet?" she repeated.

Cato looked at her as if she was crazy. "No Clove, we haven't," he said in a measured voice, "we're taking it slow."

"You said you were taking it slow with Cashmere," his friend pointed out, "but you screwed her after two weeks of dating. You've known Peeta for, what? _Two_ months now. I'd love to know what Peeta has been doing to make you hold out, it might help future relationships."

Cato frowned, stirring his coffee doubtfully. "I'm not sure I want there to be future relationships," he admitted.

Clove blinked. "What? As in you're _in love_?"

"I wouldn't say _love_, it's still a bit soon for that," Cato replied. "But when I try to imagine a future without Peeta there, it seems dreary and monotonous. Even if our relationship doesn't work out, I still want to be there for him." It was true, even if they stopped dating, he was going to stay with Peeta for every step of his transition surgery, whether he wanted him there or not.

"Who would've thought, Cato Hadley, in love," Clove teased.

"It's not love Clove," Cato insisted. _Not yet anyway._

Clove held her hands up in surrender. "Whatever cupid," she said. Changing the subject, she said, "So are you putting up your decorations soon?"

Oh shit, that was right. Christmas was coming. "Yeah," Cato said. "I'll probably have to." Truth was, he hadn't been to his own house in weeks, let alone having thought about putting his tree up. Did Peeta have decorations? If not, Cato could just bring his round there, since he practically lived with Peeta now anyway. They had a strange arrangement. Their relationship wasn't severely serious just yet and yet Cato lived with Peeta and knew his deepest secret. It was like they were working backwards from most important things to do in a relationship to least.

"Did you hear some guy is moving into your estate?" asked Clove, taking a bite out the peppermint candy cane that came with her drink.

"Really? I hadn't even realized a house was up for sale," said Cato. Had there been? Maybe the sign had gone up when he started staying over at Peeta's to watch over him . . .

"Yeah, went up two weeks ago, as far as I know," Clove explained. "Some photographer guy bought it. He's from the Capitol, takes photos for Playboy and other trashy mags that degrade people like that."

Cato turned his nose up. "So he's basically a pornographer?"

"Basically," Clove shrugged.

Cato shuddered. The poor defenseless boys and girls that got tricked into getting pictures taken for those magazines deserved better. He only hoped the guy stayed out of his way, or he might be inclined to show him what he really thought about his job.

"He has friends here, I think that's why he moved," continued Clove. "Better not start taking pictures of our teens or I'm going to have to crowbar his teeth until they're all mishapen and dislpaced."

"Do you even have a crowbar?"

"I'll buy one."

Cato chuckled and stood up. "I better go, I told Peeta I'd pick up some fresh tomatoes on the way home. He wants to cook spaghetti bolegense."

"You lucky duck," said Clove, "All I'm getting is a microwave shepherd's pie."

"You're welcome to join us."

"Nah, I'd just be a third wheel," she waved off. "You go and enjoy your _lover's _cooking."

"Don't call him that," Cato chuckled. "I'll see you later." He turned on his heel to leave when something came to mind and he turned back around. "The photographer, what's his name?"

Clove frowned. "I can't really remember. It's something to do with comics. Not D.C, the other one. You know, the one who owns the rights to X-men."

"Marvel?" Cato asked.

Clove nodded. "Yeah, that. Bit of a stupid name if you ask me."

"Agreed," Cato replied. "See you later Clove."

"See ya!"

Cato smiled and left the coffee shop, making a mental note to collect a couple of things from his house before he returned to Peeta's. He had a feeling that life could only get better from here.

Right?

**A/N: R&R with thoughts (:**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Six**

"What are you reading?"

Peeta jumped in surprise, minimising the window on his computer so Cato couldn't see what he was reading. He had been reading something with avid interest, taking furious notes and underlining certain things. "Just stuff," he said quickly.

"Can I see?" Cato asked.

"It's nothing, you wouldn't want to see it," Peeta said. He tried to busy himself, packing the notepad he had set out away and shoving the pen he had been using into his pocket. He was blushing, his entire face heated in embarrassment. Cato reached over him and brushed his hands off the touch pad, opening up the window.

"Sexual Arousal Signs in Healthy Women's Bodies?"

Peeta nodded sheepishly. "I never paid attention in school, you see . . . If our relationship is going to become more intimate, and I really want that to happen, I need to know my own body. I never bothered listening in sex ed because I didn't think I'd want to do anything with anyone prior surgery."

"So you've been educating yourself?" Cato asked. He pulled up a seat beside Peeta and skimmed the information on the computer. "'When sexual desire strikes, the brains signal the release of moisture to lubricate the vagina for sex. At the same time, the clitoris, the most erotically sensitive part, and the labia, the vaginal "lips," swell up. This creates an opening and room for the possible entry of a penis. Breasts also swell somewhat, while nipples growing more pronounced. Breathing harder and faster, potentially to the point of gasping. Eyes glazing over, pupils widening. Those with fair skin may experience a full-body blush—the result of adrenaline causing blood vessels to dilate, in order to improve blood and oxygen flow to the genitals. Veins may visibly throb. Might lick lips, cock heads and arch backs, overwhelmed by feel-good brain chemicals . . . That's because of arousal? I just thought that was girls being teases!"

"I don't even understand half of the words, what the heck is a labia?" Peeta frowned.

"I don't know," Cato answered honestly. "Uh . . . I'm guessing it's somewhere downstairs?"

"There's so much downstairs, Cato, I don't even know anymore. I tried looking up female anatomy but it was so complicated I just gave up," Peeta sighed.

"What else have you got?" Cato reached out and took Peeta's notepad, flicking it open to a random page. "Effects on the breasts during arousal?"

Peeta winced and chewed on his bottom lip. "My breasts sort of swell when I'm . . . when I'm aroused and I didn't know if it was normal or not."

"Ah, I see." Cato nodded. "You took notes on nipples as well?" he teased.

"Oh shut up," Peeta grumbled.

"Oh come on, don't be like that," Cato teased, nudging him with his elbow. "You're just trying to figure out your own body. I mean, I didn't learn everything about myself at the drop of the hat. Although it's probably a bit more difficult for you, since you aren't all that comfortable in your own skin but I'm sure you'll get there."

Cato tugged Peeta's chair closer to him and wound an arm around his shoulders. "How's your chest?"

"Okay, still hurts a little bit," answered Peeta."I'm not wearing the bandages as tight, until the pain ebbs, at least."

Cato looked around the room. They were just in Peeta's kitchen, and he didn't think they had any plans for rest of the day. "Why don't you just take it off?" he asked. "You aren't going anywhere and no one's going to see you but me."

"It's the principal of the thing. It makes me feel more . . . manly," Peeta explained. "You know, when I look down and don't see my breasts anymore."

"You are manly," Cato said.

"Not yet, anyway."

"Right here, right now, you're a man. You're the manliest man I've ever met," Cato assured him. "It's a myth that your manhood lies in your pants. Your masculinity lies here." He pressed his finger to Peeta's temple. "And here." He laid his palm over the right side of his chest, where his heart lay.

Peeta placed his hand over Cato's, holding it tight. "You keep spitting out one liners like that as if they come to your naturally," he said.

"They do," Cato shrugged. Peeta smiled. "When I'm with you, they come as easily to me as words to an authour or notes to a musician."

"I wish I was smooth enough to be able to come up with words like that," said Peeta. "Then I could tell you how much you mean to me." Cato smiled. He didn't need to hear words of homage from Peeta, he preferred to be the one giving them out. "But I suppose . . . I could show you."

"You don't have to show me anything," ensured Cato.

"I don't have to but I want to." Peeta stood up and slid his hands up underneath the back of his shirt. Cato watched curiously, his lips twitching into a grin when his boyfriend undid the bandages and let them fall away onto the floor. He sat back down with a partially satisifed grin and looked at Cato with his bright blue eyes. "I trust you," he said.

Cato wondered if he meant that he trusted him not to judge his masculintiy because of his chest or he trusted him not to make him uncomfortable by staring at his chest. Because the latter was going to be difficult. The beautifully formed mounds were just too damn hard to ignore. Especially since they were starting to become more sexually active with each other.

"Close your mouth honey, the flies are coming," Peeta said sweetly, tapping Cato's mouth closed. He looked down at his chest seriously and sighed. "I honestly don't see the appeal in these things, but maybe that's just me. You obviously see something, you can't stop staring."

"I think most guys like them because they won't see them unless in sexual situations," Cato tried to explain. "They're great to look at and, honestly? They feel so soft and amazing. I, for one, look at your chest and envision the noises I could get you to make just by manipulating that area alone."

Peeta swallowed the lump in his throat. "You sure you won't miss them when they're gone?"

Cato smirked. "I'm sure," he answered. "You know why?"

"Why?"

"I'd like to say something dignified like it's because you will feel more comfortable and be ultimately happy-which will be amazing-but remember, you'll still have your nipples to play with," Cato reminded him.

Peeta snorted and smacked his arm. "Wow, that's certainly an upside," he said sarcastically.

Grinning, Cato opened up Peeta's notepad again. "When a woman gets exicted, it manifests in her nipples. Nipples are considered the most sensitive part of the body because they have a rich supply of nerves. So when they are handled or kissed or sucked, they erect immediately," he read. "This is acually interresting, I didn't know there were nerves there. I thought it just felt nice."

"Well, so did I. Which shows how much I know about myself," Peeta answered.

Cato flipped over a page. His eyes widened. "You researched anal sex?" he asked.

Peeta blushed furiously. "I was just curious," he said.

Cato tried not to snicker with amusement, for Peeta's sake. "About that, when we first try having sex, would you prefer us to do anal or vaginal?"

"Uh . . ."

"I mean, you don't need to make the decision right now, just something to think about," said Cato.

Peeta nodded. "Okay, I will."

Cato stood up and tapped his head. "Better get back to studying, your body isn't going to discover itself."

"Oh shut up," Peeta laughed, rolling his eyes. Cato grinned and kissed his cheek before disappearing up the stairs. Unable to help himself, Peeta returned to his computer, determined to learn as much as he could.

~xXx~

**The following Day:**

"Maddy?"

Peeta froze, his eyes focused on the magazine in front of him and his hand frozen mid-turn of the page. That name, only one person who address him that way. He glanced up, praying it wouldn't be true, it wasn't true, it wasn't true.

It was.

Marvel's jaw was unhinged, the shock evident on his face. "Maddy? Is that you?" he asked, approaching the counter. Peeta thanked his lucky stars that Clove was off sick, or he'd be in for a load of questions. He wanted to lie and say that he wasn't Maddy, but he had always sucked at lying, so he didn't bother trying.

"What are you doing here Marvel?" he asked sharply.

"I just moved here . . ." Marvel said, trailing off. His eyes slid down to his chest, widening in horror when he didn't see what used to be his favourite part of 'Maddy's' body. "Oh Maddy, you didn't, did you?"

"Calm down Marvel, I haven't had the surgery yet," Peeta hissed. "And I'm not Maddy anymore. I'm Peeta."

"Peeta? Isn't that a boy's name?"

"_I am_ a boy."

Marvel rolled his eyes. "Have you actually convinced the people of this village that you're a boy?" he asked. He squinted. "Well, I suppose you do have manly features, and a deep voice . . . But where are my girls?"

"They're not yours anymore," snapped Peeta, resisting the urge to cross his arms and turn away. He deeply regretted letting Marvel claim ownership over his chest when they were together. He had names for each boob and everything . . . . "If you're not buying anything, get the hell out."

Marvel snorted. "Some costumer service this place has," he said sarcastically. He quirked an eyebrow. "Come on sweet cheeks, you know you missed me."

"Actually, I did not. A statement I can say with absolute certainty," Peeta answered. "You wouldn't support me and that's why I left. And I'm glad I did because I didn't realize how stupid I was being back then."

"I wasn't going to support you because you were going mad!" exclaimed Marvel. "You're a girl, not a boy."

"No. I'm. Not."

Marvel rolled his eyes and smirked arrogantly. "Go out with me," he demanded.

Peeta scoffed. "No chance." He smirked back snidely. "I have a boyfriend."

Marvel's smirk melted into a scowl. "Who is he?"

"None of your business," said Peeta.

His ex glowered. "Does he know about your crazy theory?" he asked.

"That I'm a boy? Yes. And he's extremely supportive of me," Peeta said.

Marvel licked his lips almost predatorily, leaning forward so their faces were inches apart. "Go out with me or I'll tell this entire village your secret," he threatened in a low voice only Peeta could hear. "I'll tell them that you're a girl or 'born a girl' as you claim. I'll tell them that you have magnificent, swollen tits, that instead of a dick down there it's a hungry pussy that's just begging to be dampened. That you have your period every month, you ovulate, you have delectable, erect nipples that stand to attention in the cold, that you can get pregnant, give birth, experience multiple orgasms. I'll blab about it all."

Peeta's heart sped up. "You have no proof," he said.

"Sometimes when you stayed in my apartment, I'd drug your drinks so you'd sleep like a log while I took some extra photos," explained Marvel. "All of them nude, of course. I still have the pictures and it's very clearly you. I'll photocopy them and stick them over the entire village for everyone to see."

Peeta narrowed his eyes. "You're bluffing."

Marvel smirked smugly, pulling a picture out of his 'man-bag' as he called it (don't ask) and sliding it across the counter. "Friday Night, 8:00, Arena Bar. Be there, _without _the boyfriend." He winked and left without another word.

The picture was definitely him. He was lying on the make-shift bed he slept on in Marvel's apartment, completely naked. His breasts were still developing when he was sixteen but they were still visible, looking stimulated and aching. He seemed to be lying in a way that made him look like he was thrusting his chest up, his knees bent and legs spread, the angle of the camera able to capture his heated center.

Peeta felt violated.

_No, don't let him ruin things now. Just go to the bar for one drink and then leave. Just to protect your secret. Your secret must stay a secret._

~xXx~

_Peeta blushed. He crossed his arms over his chest to cover the fact that his nipples had actually begun to harden at his words. It was too late though, Cato noticed. They stared at each other, blue on green, both colours darkened with desire. Both daring each other to act first. The older boy shut the computer and pushed it out of the way. _

_Cato acted first, leaning forward and capturing Peeta's lips in a kiss. He fed from the sweetness of the young blond's lips, his tongue parting them and sweeping inside the warm, moist caverns of his mouth. Peeta met with matching ferocity, curling his own silky tongue around Cato's and tangling together in a hungry battle of lust and power._

_Desperate to win, Cato lifted Peeta off his seat and set him on the edge of the table, holding his face in place as he nipped his swollen lips with his teeth savagely. Peeta spread his legs so Cato could get closer, his hands exploring his muscled back as he continued the assault on his mouth._

_A sweet pressure was building up in his neither regions, the same pressure that came at night when he masturbated. His breasts hurt, nipples achingly hard and pointed. He wanted relief from it, something Cato could provide. Peeta pulled Cato closer, moaning as he started kissing his pale neck._

_Cato tugged down the sleeves of Peeta's shirt, pressing tiny kisses to his creamy shoulders as he caressed his hips with his thumbs. Peeta wrapped his legs around Cato's middle so their crotches met. This set electric shocks through both their beings and both groaned at the same time. _

_Slightly fed up with Cato's polite nature and lost in a fog of hormones and lust, Peeta took one of his hands and placed it on his breast. "Please," he begged._

Well, if you insist, _Cato thought. He cupped the fleshy mound and caressed it, using Peeta's hitching breath as a sign of whether to continue or not. As his confidence grew, he let his other hand join in, rubbing the neglected breast in a massaging motion. Peeta arched into him, his eyes rolling behind his head blissfully. His hands fumbled for the hem of his shirt, which he promptly threw over his head and let fall to the floor._

_"Keep going," he encouraged. _

_Cato couldn't believe this was the boy who was nervous about showing him his chest a few days ago. Now sitting on the edge of the kitchen table, lips red and wet from making out, willingly offering his ripe flesh to be fondled. _

_Never having been a man to disappoint, Cato cupped a breast in each hand, the skin heated and smooth. Peeta gasped at his touch, his legs clenching around his waist and his nails dugging into his back. He captured his quivering nipples between his fingers, sensually rolling them until the buds were rigid. He then proceeded to kiss his way down from his collarbone to his chest._

_When he enclosed the first bud in his mouth, Peeta screamed in ecstasy, his nails creating thin scratch marks down Cato's back. Cato continued regardless, suckling on his breast while still fondling the other. He guided Peeta onto his back on the table so he loomed over him on his hands and knees. This gave him more leverage and he was able to abuse his tender peaks easier._

_"Don't stop Cato," Peeta pleaded, even though Cato had no intention of stopping. He slipped his hand down from Cato's back and stuck it into his underwear, to where his desperate center was begging for attention. He was still inexperienced, but that sensitive area was swollen and felt orgasmic to touch so he started there, pinching and rubbing the slippery area._

_Cato was in heaven. Peeta was gorgeous, even when he was squirming and gasping for breath as he touched himself. Cato lapped at the skin surrounding the now bright red nipples, unable to get enough of the taste of his bare skin. He pushed back up and reclaimed Peeta's lips, letting him moan and gasp and groan into his mouth all he liked. His hands remained on his chest, massaging the swollen flesh and pinching the raw nipples._

_Peeta orgasmed soon after, his entire body coiling before going limp again. "Oh my god," he panted, "that was amazing."_

_"I know," Cato smirked, pecking his lips._

_"But you didn't get to . . ."_

_"Don't worry about it. We've got all day together."_

_Peeta laughed. "What makes you think I'm going to be able to go through that again today?" he asked._

_Cato grinned, leaning forward and cupping the younger boy's heated center over his trousers. Peeta let out a tiny squeak, his back arching in pleasure. "That's the thing about a female body," he purred, "it's designed to be able to endure multiple orgasms."_

_Peeta smirked back. "Better put it to the test then."_

Cato woke up with his face smushed against the mattress of Peeta's bed. His head was clouded and he groaned, standing up and brushing the wrinkles from his clothes. He was soaked in a thin layer of sweat, his clothes damp and smelly. Urgh, he'd have to have a shower. When he stopped outside the bathroom, he heard the water running. The door was open the smallest of bits and he peered into the steamy room curiously.

Peeta's shower was a transparent cubicle instead of a bath with an attatchment. The glass wasn't fogged, nor was their a shower curtain, so you could see right through. Cato supposed that it was a bit of a nuisance, not being able to be covered up, but the bathroom window was fogged glass so no one on the outside could see in.

Peeta himself was showering, standing under the hot spray with his eyes closed as the water relentlessly battered his body. His wet skin glittered as suds slid down his body, leaving glistening trails of bubbles in its wake. Cato inhaled sharply. This was the first time he saw him completely naked.

His face was sated and calm, his soft lips pressed together gently. His eyebrows were furrowed and Cato couldn't read his expression. He trailed his eyes down his tender neck to his sharp collarbone, across his flushed chest to the swollen, sensitive flesh of his boobs. The nipples were pebbled and the colour of pale pink tea roses. Further down, his stomach was flat, the skin the colour of fresh cream. He had beautifully curved hips and strong, smooth legs. Shapely thighs and a cute navel.

Cato's eyes fell on the apex of his legs, where a small patch of curly, blond hair lay. He could imagine it's heat and moist caverns, of the noises he could elict from Peeta just by touching him there.

Peeta sighed and turned around so he faced the wall and Cato almost groaned out loud. Oh he had the most gorgeous ass he had ever seen in his entire life! It was smooth and plump, the muscles taut. Cato could easily encase himself in the tight heat of the younger boy's rear, fucking him until he screamed his name . . .

Cato almost entered the bathroom. He almost marched right up to Peeta and got in beside him, kissing him into oblivion while exploring his soft body with his hands and mouth. But something stopped him.

Peeta turned again and looked down at himself. He curled his lip in annoyed and suddenly lashed out, punching the tiled wall angrily before sinking to his knees and burying his face in his arms. Cato's heart cracked. He wanted to go in and hug him, tell him it was alright, that everything was going to be just fine. But he held back. He held back because he knew Peeta would not want him to be seeing him in such a state-especially since he was naked-and going in would no doubtly make things worse.

Sometimes Cato felt so helpless. He wanted to make Peeta happy and take his pain away until they could pay for his surgery.

And he had no idea how to do it.

**A/N: Uh-oh, Marvel's blackmailed Peeta into a date :O What's going to happen?**

**Please R&R! :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: The first half of this chapter is EXTREMELY graphic. I'm serious, if you don't like that sort of thing, skip all the way down to Peeta's date with Marvel. You've been warned.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Seven**

Peeta decided to try out some of his research while Cato was out. He sat in bed with a pair of sweatpants on, his notepad lying open beside him at the page, _"How to successfully Masturbate."_

The first step said to take the palms of his hands and gently rub them across his chest, above his breasts. He did this, slowly bringing them down a little to stroke the sides before pushing his shirt up and pulling on the aureoles of his nipples. His body was already beginning to react, slowly heating up as his sensitive peaks hardened in approval of his actions. He leaned back against his headboard, manipulating his rosy buds between his fingers and letting the glorious pressure build up in his lower abdamon.

Next it said to take one hand away from his breast and let it explore his sex. Thankfully when it used the biological names for the different parts of his vagina, it came with a specific defintion so he knew what they were talking about. It said to let his fingertips trace various parts of his anatomy, the silky flesh of his outer lips, pulling them open gently and sliding one finger up and down the opening. His body tensed and he whimpered, the hand still on his breast working virgorously and attentatively.

His notes told him to feel the moisture his body was producing, his natural lubrication. It told him to explore his inner lips. It then said to slide his first two fingers up and down, up and down, enjoying his own touch.

He couldn't believe how good this felt. His breath hitched as his body trembled in pleasure. He let his fingers drift towards the top of the parting of his lips, and found the small swell of his Clitoris. His fingers moist from his secretions, he gently ran them over the pulsating mound, his hips immediately bucking in approval to the touch. As he did this, what his notes called 'the love button' began to reveal itself, having been hidden by the hood of his labia. His fingers explored this area tenderly, beads of sweat breaking out across his brow. He gasped for air, the hand on his breast joining the party at his center and inserting his finger into his vagina, the feeling of it inside of him feeling like nothing he ever felt before.

Peeta couldn't breathe, his hips jerking as he viciously finger-fucked himself, his entire body coated with sweat. His bosom quivered in pleasure, his heated center soaked with wetness. He sped up as he reached his peak and yelled loudly as he orgasmed.

He seemed to be making a habit of this now. Every time Cato left, he touched himself virgorously. This didn't make sense, since they were supposed to be trying to be more initmate and yet the only time Peeta touched himself was when he was sure Cato wouldn't walk in on him. Sometimes he even found himself fantasizing while he did it, about things he wouldn't dream of asking Cato to do.

_He pushs you on the bed and starts greedily licking your wet pussy, loving the feeling of your hot juice all over his face and sliding down his throat. He flicks his tongue across your hard nub and loves the moans that you're making. He starts flicking your clit faster with his tongue and then start sucking on it until you gasp. _

Peeta groaned into his pillow a few nights later, his ass in the air as he rubbed his swollen clit. He hadn't meant to get so turned on but once the thoughts came into his head, they refused to leave. If he was quiet enough, Cato wouldn't come upstairs and see him, as difficult as it was going to be.

_He slides a finger into your tight ass hole and starts to pump it in and out while still sucking and fingering your tight hot pussy with his other hand. You're humping your pussy against his mouth and forcing him deeper. He starts tongue fucking you again._

He groped his aching breasts, practically humping his own hand. He was so aroused it was almost painful. He didn't know where his sudden graphic nature had come from but it was so fucking hot he didn't want it to stop.

_He releases your pulsating core and you whimper, letting out a tiny gasp as he puts his hands up your shirt, pleased to find you're not wearing your bandages. He starts pulling on your nipples and you whine. He continues pulling on your nipples and then removes your shirt so he can look at your breasts. He starts biting roughly on your nipples and flicking his tongue over them, enjoying the fact that they're rock hard now._

Peeta grunted and groaned, dipping his fingers inside of himself and sliding them in and out, in and out, in and out.

_He feels your big tits and makes your nipples hard for him. After he's gotten your nipples hard he starts slowly rubbing your clit. He pulls on it and you're whimpering so he kneels in front of you. He leans forward and presses his face into your pussy and starts to suck on your love button while fingering your tight opening. _

_He gently guides you to the bed and you bend over it obidently, so your ass is in the air._

Peeta's fingers moves away from his center all of a sudden and he found himself massaging his hole with his already lubed fingers. He imagined it was Cato and his thighs clenched together in want.

_He enters you roughly from behind and you moan, immediately pushing back on his manhood. He pounds you hard and you meet every one of his thrusts. You cry out that you're going to cum and he smacks your ass, ordering you to do it._

Peeta had the most intense orgasm he had experienced so far with that one. He couldn't believe that he actually enjoyed fantasizing about Cato being so rough with him. The idea of being dominated by him and letting him control his body was so hot he almost got aroused again just thinking about it.

On some level, he was glad he was doing this when Cato wasn't there. So that they weren't blundering when it came to the actual thing. When Cato asked what he liked, he could tell him immediately. So far he got that he enjoyed being manhandled and the way to get the most intense orgasm is to bury your face in your pillows and stick your ass in the air.

Yes, he was finally discovering his body.

~xXx~

Cato, unaware that Peeta was masturbating nearly every night to thoughts of him, was going through a smiliar dilema. Except he wrote his down in the form of erotica instead of actually indulging in masturbation. He wasn't like Peeta and couldn't hide that he was touching himself, because surely the young boy would hear him from the bathroom. So he just wrote it all down.

_"I run my fingers through your hair, down your back, and over your stomach, squeezing your delicious boobs and making you giggle in this really sexy, flirtatious way. You're kind of girlish about it and it is irresistible. I grab a bar of soap, get it wet, and start running it down your back and down your ass. . . creeping down and gliding it over your pussy from behind and making you gasp. _

"_I pin you down, bar of soap still in hand, and start running it up and down from your clitoris to the entrance of your pulsating center, which it's so hot that it hurts. You're dying to come so I grind into you and wrap my legs around you until you relax and grind back. It feels so amazing and we are rubbing our bodies against each other in the bathtub._

_"I am hungry for you and I start moaning loudly, squeezing your ass cheeks and pulling your molten need against my hard on. You start moaning and I can tell that you're as close to orgasm as I am. Your face is getting all red, you're hot and bothered, and you have a new, fiery look on your face like I have never seen. I flip you over to give you the ride of your life so that you're on your back now_.

"_I hold you down by the shoulders, sliding my crotch over your glistening center. I hit your sweet spot, making sure to graze your swollen sensitive mound. You're twitching and moaning and grunting. I slide one hand up and squeeze your nipples HARD, one at a time, moving my crotch against your pussy. You're so close to coming, you close your eyes and open them and you're staring into my eyes like nothing else in the world matters. Your mouth is open, mid-moan, and I slide my fingers into your mouth and you look at me like you're conquering me."_

Cato hated the 'p' word regarding a woman's gentials but for some reason when he was typing, the word just came out mutiple times. For a gross term, it certainly was hot.

Sometimes, he thought of ways he could make Peeta feel good, while showing him that he had a beautiful, supple, gorgeous body that he shouldn't be angry or ashamed of.

He thought of making Peeta sit in front of a mirror where he could see his whole body while he sat behind him. He'd open his legs and let his hands pass over his wet, tender flesh. He would have his other hand on his neck before sliding it down and using the tips of his fingers to flick at the younger boy's nipples. Cato would listen to the moans he was causing, telling Peeta to open his eyes every time he closed them.

Cato would tell Peeta how beautiful his body was while he squirmed and writhed against him. He would take his time trailing his eyes over his body, admiring every inch from his sweet breasts to his beautiful center. Cato would lick his vulnerable skin, his hands skimming his breasts and stomach until he stopped at the soft petals of his untouched folds. He would wait until Peeta was panting before he'd palm the honey soft swells of his boobs and slowly push his finger into him, immediately rubbing his clit.

Peeta would be wet by now, his hips jerking and twisting in pleasure. Cato would stop touching him, making him whine in frustration, and would promise to resume if Peeta looked at himself in the mirror and said that Cato was right and that he was gorgeous. Then, and only then, would he continue and finger fuck him into oblivion.

Only he immediately knew that this wasn't fair and dismissed the very idea.

Cato wasn't sure how much longer he could hold himself back from touching Peeta. Because it was getting harder every day (no pun intended).

~xXx~

**Arena Bar: 8:10pm**

Peeta should have known that Marvel would have arranged to have the most private booth in the whole building. You could literally strip off and do the macerena on the table and no one else would notice. It just made the situation even more unnerving.

Marvel wasn't interested in frivilous chit-chat. He got right down to what he wanted to talk about.

"When are you supposedly getting this surgery?"

Peeta shrugged, sitting at the farthest end of the booth and putting as much distance between himself and Marvel as he could. "When I get enough money together," he said.

"From where? Working in that shop? Surely you realize it will take years, maybe even decades, before you could earn enough money for such surgery in that place?" said Marvel.

Peeta scowled. "I'd choose it over the work I did for you anyday," he spat.

Marvel laughed. He didn't sound like he believed him. "And here's me thinking you _willingly_ stripped off and posed for those pictures," he said sarcastically. "That you were the one who exposed your own body in such a provocative way. Don't act like you're the victim Madd-I mean, _Peeta_. You choose to do all that. Just like you choose to wiggle your sexy little ass in that tight outfit in Gloss' bar."

"I didn't choose to wear that!" exclaimed Peeta. "Gloss forced me to!"

"Mmm-hmm, whatever you say."

Peeta didn't give Marvel the satisfaction of getting worked up. He just shut up about the matter and waited for him to continue with what he wanted to say.

Marvel smiled, almost kindly. "The thing is, I _have_ missed you," he admitted. "And I will do anything to have you back, even if it's only for a little while every week."

Narrowing his eyes, Peeta asked, "What do you mean?"

"If you let me see you every week-and I mean, properly see you, not this cold attitude I'm getting now-I'll keep quiet about your secret," explained Marvel.

Wow, that wasn't as bad as Peeta thought it was going to be. He thought Marvel was maybe going to force him to take on the persona of Maddy again and take more pictures or something horrid like that.

"Really?" he asked in disbelief. "That's it?"

"Well, no," Marvel smirked. "There's one condition: you let me touch you."

"Touch me?" Did he mean as in hand holding and stuff? Because that wasn't too bad.

"Yes. Touch you the way I didn't get a chance to when you were my model. Did you know that the night before you left was the night I was going to fuck you for the first time?" he asked.

Peeta turned his nose up. "And you certainly have a very romantic way of putting it," he said sarcastically. "You do realize I would have said no, right?"

Marvel rolled his eyes. "Petty details," he said.

"Look, letting you touch me is the basic equivalant of cheating on my boyfriend. I'm not doing that to him, okay?" Peeta insisted.

Marvel raised his eyebrows. "And here's me thinking you cared about your secret," he said.

"I do but-"

"Then stop whining and just let me get what I want. Trust me, it's not as bad as it seems. Just one night, once a week, that's all I want." Marvel scooted closer to him and Peeta had nowhere else to move to. He instead leaned away and tried not to pull a face that might offend Marvel.

"I have conditions of my own," he found himself saying. "You call me Peeta, not Maddy, and accept the fact that I am a boy and will be a boy as soon as I have the money to pay for my surgery."

Marvel grinned. "I wouldn't worry about that. I have a theory that you only want to be a boy because you haven't been fucked by a _real_ man."

Peeta actually surprised himself by bursting out laughing. "Oh god, and you think you're that 'real' man?" he chuckled. "You're kidding me, right? I've met maniler men in Subway. The sandwich shop, not the train stop."

Marvel pretended to be offended. "Wow 'Peeta' you cut me deep," he said sarcastically. "And I thought what we had was special."

"Or common as dirt."

"You say potato, I say potatoe."

"You say daily living, I say blackmail."

Marvel chuckled and tried to kiss him. Surprised, Peeta put his hand over his mouth and pushed him away. "Yeah, I have one more condition," he said.

Marvel sighed heavily. "And what's that?" he asked irritably.

"You leave me alone for tonight," explained Peeta. "And I choose the days we see each other."

"Okay, that sounds reasonable."

Peeta smiled and stood up, acting as calm as possible. He didn't want Marvel know that he was going to go straight home and talk to Cato. Because he wasn't going to betray him, he wasn't going to do this to him behind his back. Not for the sake of his secret or for Marvel's own sick desires.

As he left, he tried to calm his frayed nerves. He had to tell Cato about everything.

Including his past.

**A/N: R&R with your thoughts please!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Eight**

When Peeta got home, Cato was already asleep. Not wanting to wake him, he decided to talk to him in the morning about everything that had been going on. They were starting to share a bed more and more and Peeta chuckled affectionately when he saw his boyfriend passed out on his bed, ontop of the covers as if he hadn't meant to fall asleep on them but couldn't help it.

Peeta quickly changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed beside Cato, who shuffled closer to him and wrapped his arms around his waist as if able to sense his presence with him. Peeta didn't mind and melted into the embrace, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep easily.

Neither of them could remember what they dreamed that night but it must have been something extremely provocative for them to end up in the position they woke up in the next morning.

Peeta woke up first. In the beginning the world still felt very hazy and he felt like he was still in a dream. He could feel hands on his body but it didn't fully register because he was half-asleep and thought that this was still surely one of his ridiculous fantasies. A hand was underneath his shirt, caging one of his breasts in a soft but pleasureable hold, while another had somehow wormed its way into his underwear, where it cupped his heated center.

It didn't take long for his senses to come back to him.

Peeta forced his eyes open but didn't dare move. If he shifted the tiniest of bits, the hand in his pants but rub against the sensitive skin of his outer lips and he had no idea if once that sort of thing started if he'd be able to stop it or not. He realized that his hands were underneath Cato's shirt, his nails somehow digging into his shoulder blades.

Thankfully, the hands belonged to Cato, who was still asleep. Well, at least it wasn't something weird like he was trying to touch him like this while Peeta was sleeping because _that_ would have been strange. No, they had probably just moved around a lot in their sleep and hadn't realized their hands had gotten under each other's clothes.

"Cato," Peeta whispered, "Cato, wake up."

"Hmm?" Cato mumbled vaguely. His head was buried in the crook of Peeta's neck, his lazy snores vibrating in the younger boy's chest.

"Wake up, Cato," Peeta repeated.

"Sssh baby, we don't have to get up yet," his boyfriend mumbled tiredly, "I'm not finished with you anyway."

Finished with him? What _was_ he on about? "Are you still dreaming?" Peeta asked in surprise.

Instead of answering, Cato's hand-the one currently taking up residence in Peeta's underwear-moved and he skimmed his finger up the younger boy's tender slit. It actually felt nice and quite relaxing so Peeta didn't protest, instead closing his eyes and sighing into his boyfriend's neck. The explorative digit slowly parted the silky skin and wandered inside, stroking the sensitive pink skin within. It felt different as to when Peeta did it to himself and he couldn't find it in him to wake Cato up. It felt too damn good.

Cato mumbled, "You like that, don't you?" sleepily and Peeta whimpered in response. He felt himself dampening in arousal as Cato sleep touched him. Was Peeta taking advantage? He didn't know if this was or not but his brain was too clouded to care. He had just began rocking back and forth against his boyfriend's hand when the finger, lubed with his own juices, slid further up and pushed into his ass.

Unprepared for it, Peeta yelped loudly. He jumped backwards in shock and woke Cato up by accident. He fell over the edge of the bed and landed on the floor, hard. "Oh my god, Peeta, are you alright?!" Cato exclaimed.

"Ngh," Peeta replied vaguely, his body aching and not because of the fall.

"Shit, come here." Cato took a hold of his arm and gently pulled him back onto the bed. "Is anything broken?"

"Only my dignity," Peeta joked weakly.

Cato wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. "Were you having a bad dream or something?"

"Uh . . ." Peeta wasn't too eager about talking about what had happened because it was obvious Cato had no idea what he had been doing and he wasn't too eager to start explaining it. "Sure."

"Are you okay now?" asked Cato, concerned.

"Oh yeah . . . I-I'm fine." Leaping at the chance to change the subject before it went too deep about his so-called 'nightmare' and he was lying through his teeth, Peeta said, "Cato, I need to talk to you about something."

Cato frowned. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Um, sort of, I guess," Peeta answered. He sat up and leaned against the headboard of the bed. "Something's happened and I'm really worried."

"What is it? What's happened?" Cato sounded extremely worried already and Peeta immediately began to rethink telling him anything. Noticing this, Cato sat back beside him and threaded their fingers together. "It's okay, you know you can tell me anything."

Peeta nodded. Of course he knew this. He was just didn't where he could start explaining. "When I ran away . . . I applied for a job at a bar in the Capitol. I didn't like it because it was a bit sleezy but the pay was good. I think I worked there for about three months before I got offered a modelling job. Of course, I had a different name then and I modelled under the name of Maddy Smith."

Cato was listening intently. He stroked the top of Peeta's hand with his thumb which was very soothing. It felt like he was smoothing away all of his frayed or torn nerves. "Was that so people didn't know who you were?" he asked.

"Yeah," answered Peeta. "I got very close to the photographer. I wouldn't call what we had a relationship now that I'm older and have more sense in me but back then when I was only sixteen I thought we were going to be together for ever."

"What sort of photography was this?" asked Cato. "Was it for a magazine? Webpage? Book covers?"

_Okay Peeta, now or never._ "I didn't know it at the time, but it was basically porn," he quietly explained.

Cato didn't turn his nose up or look at him in disgust. He didn't call him a slut or close off without letting him explain. He didn't even let go of his hand. "Oh Peeta, I'm sorry," he murmured. Peeta looked at him in alarm. Why was _he_ apologizing? "I can't believe you were driven to that."

Oh. Peeta shrugged. "You don't have to say sorry as if it's your fault," he said. "The photographer told me that the pictures were tasteful so it didn't really register that I was exposing myself in indecent ways. And the money was _so_ good. If I had have done that for a year or two, I would have had plenty for my surgery."

"This photographer, he didn't take advantage, did he?"

"I think if I had have stayed any longer then he probably would have," Peeta explained.

"I'm not saying that I'm not glad but why did you leave?" asked Cato.

Peeta chewed on the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood in his mouth. Cato squeezed his hand comfortingly. This gave him the courage to answer. "I told him about my being a boy and he didn't want to know."

A pause.

"Then he's an idiot," Cato concluded, making Peeta smile.

"You see, the thing is," Peeta continued, "he's back."

Cato raised his eyebrows. "He's back?" he repeated slowly.

"He's back and he's threatening to expose my secret if I don't see him once a week." Now that he said it, it all came out in a rush. "He has proof Cato and I'm scared that if I don't do what he says then he's going to tell everyone who I am and they're all going to hate me and shun me like they did to Paylor."

"He wouldn't have proof," Cato said. "I mean, who are they going to believe: you or some new guy?"

"Cato, he has evidence." Peeta yanked open his bedside table and showed Cato the photo Marvel gave him. He studied his face carefully as his eyes slid over it. Was he horrified? Disgusted, maybe?

"Are you . . . are asleep?" he finally asked.

Peeta nodded. "He told me recently that he drugged my drinks so I'd sleep like a log and he could take photos of me," he whispered.

"Okay, where is this guy?" Cato asked, crumpling the photo up in his hand. "I'm going to kill him."

"I-I don't know but that's not really what I had in mind. I just thought if you could think of any way I could get out this because I don't want to have to meet him or cheat on you because of the threat-"

"I'm going to kill the bastard," Cato said, as if he hadn't been listening. Underneath a seemingly placid mask, the older boy was severely angry. Peeta immediately regretted telling him anything.

"Cato, it's okay, you don't have to do that," he quickly said. "Cato, Cato! Are you listening? You can't hurt him because if you do you're going to come off as the bad guy."

"I don't care. I'm going to kill him," Cato continued.

"You don't understand-"

"No, _you_ don't understand, Peeta." Cato framed his face in his hands, stroking his cheekbones with his thumbs. "That dickhead has disrespected you and treated you like shit. You don't deserve that, it's not fair. You're a beautiful human being, not someone who should be treated like dirt just because you're a little bit different-"

Peeta placed his hands over Cato's and shushed him. "It's okay, I promise. Don't get worked up, that wasn't what I wanted to achieve by telling you about this."

"I'm sorry but you can't expect me to do something about it-"

"Please don't hurt him. He's very powerful, he could sue you for bodily harm if you do something to him. I don't think I could handle being on my own again," Peeta insisted. "Promise me you won't hurt him, okay?"

"I can't-"

"Cato, please, don't."

Cato was reluctant but he nodded none-the-less. Peeta couldn't be sure if he was telling the truth but it was all he could go on for now. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't want people to know yet Cato, I'm not ready for it."

"Well, if you let me beat him up a bit then he might-"

"Cato!"

"What?!"

"_No._"

Cato groaned in annoyance and pressed his forehead against Peeta's. "I just want to look after you," he murmured.

"I know," Peeta replied. "And you're doing just fine. I just don't want our relationship to be worried because of something trival like this. Maybe I should just stop making a fuss and do what he wants me to. I suppose as long as I don't let him do anything radical everything should be alright. I doubt I'm worth all this trouble-"

Cato placed his hand over his mouth. "Stop that," he said. "You're _not_ any trouble." He stole a kiss, the action so quick that Peeta didn't have a chance to react. "Trust me, I'm not the faffy type and if you were a trouble or burden to me I would have told you by now."

"Yeah, but you could just be saying that," said Peeta.

"Was I or was I not completely honest with you that first day we met?" asked Cato.

"I suppose," Peeta mumbled.

Cato rolled his eyes. "You don't sound one bit convinced," he sighed. "Look, you have to believe me. We'll sort this out, I promise."

"But how?"

"I don't know exactly but we will."

Peeta nodded. It wasn't much but it was all they had at the moment. But as long as they were working through it together, things were going to be okay. Even if Marvel did tell people that Peeta was born a girl-and still had her body-at least he was positive that Cato would always be on his side. There for him through thick and thin. At least that was something.

"Was that what your nightmare was about?" asked Cato. "About the village finding out about your secret?"

"Um . . ." Damn it, why was he so bad at lying? He had been doing it for long enough when he was pretending to be Maddy and acting like he wasn't Perry, why couldn't he do it now? Was it because a part of him didn't want to lie to Cato? Or was it just because he was ultimately rubbish at it?

"You don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable, of course," Cato quickly said, as if he had crossed a line by asking. Peeta knew he couldn't lie to him.

"Thing is," he said carefully, "I didn't quite have a nightmare."

"Oh." Cato sounded surprised. "Why did you fall off the edge of the bed then?"

"It doesn't matter," Peeta sighed, playing with Cato's fingers. It really didn't matter anyway. It was just a silly sleepy fumble. "I'm just super clumsy, that's all." He paused. "What were_ you_ dreaming?"

Cato frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, you asked me, I asked back," Peeta said. He wanted for Cato to answer and when he didn't, he risked glancing at him. He was looking away, chewing on his lip, seeming to be seriously thinking about it. "Can't you remember?"

"I can, I'm just thinking about something else," replied Cato.

"Oh." Peeta waited, giving him some time to think about what he wanted to think about. It was hard, since he really wanted to see how Cato was going to answer his question, since he already had an idea of what he had been dreaming anyway. Was he being a bit nasty, asking when he already knew just to see what Cato was going to say? Or what Cato was _not_ going to say?

"You're smirking," Cato said all of a sudden.

"Huh?" Peeta hadn't realized that he had started smirking to himself.

"You're smirking." Cato was grinning himself now.

"No, I'm not." This statement seemed very contradictory since he couldn't stop now that he had started. What was it that he was finding so amusing? The whole situation they were in? What had happened between them only fifteen minutes ago? Peeta didn't know what it was but the smirk wouldn't leave him now.

"Yes, you are," chuckled Cato. "What's so funny?"

Peeta laughed, almost childishly. He was too far gone now. "I know," he giggled.

"You know what?"

"What you were dreaming."

Cato quirked an eyebrow. "I doubt you do," he said.

"Oh really now?"

"Well, yeah."

"And how did you do that then?" Cato still didn't sound like he believed Peeta when he said he knew. On some level it was kind of frustrating but if Cato had been the one to discover Peeta's dreams, he'd probably react the exact same way.

"Um, because half of it wasn't a dream . . ."

A long pause.

"Wait, what?"

Peeta gestured around himself vaguely. "You move around in your sleep. Like hands and stuff. I mean, don't get me wrong, I do it too. But you were being a bit-" He snickered, unable to control himself-"frisky."

Cato's eyes widened. "What?" he repeated.

"Is that the only word in your vocabulary now?" grinned Peeta.

"What do you mean 'frisky'?" insisted Cato. He took Peeta's hands and started examining his arms as if searching for bruises. "Did I hurt you? Sometimes I lash out in my sleep, is that what happened?"

"Cato? Cato, listen, hey, stop for a second." Peeta took Cato's face into his hands to stop him. "You didn't hurt me, it's okay."

"Then what is it? What did I do? Was it something horrible?" Cato looked horrified with himself, the thought of having hurt Peeta scaring him.

"Hey, what did I just say?" Peeta replied. "You didn't hurt me."

"Then what did I do?"

"You . . . touched me in a way I've never been touched before."

Cato wasn't one to be naive and immediately caught on to what he was talking about. He groaned and threw his head into his hands. "Oh my god!" he exclaimed. "You can't be serious!"

"It wasn't that bad," Peeta admitted, almost shamefully. "I should have stopped you, really."

Cato split his fingers and risked peering through the spaces. "You didn't fall out of the bed immediately?" he asked.

Peeta smiled weakly. "Not really," he said. He could see how worked up and slightly frustrated Cato was with himself. "Okay, would it make you feel any better if I said that I have those sorts of dreams too?"

Cato straighted up, his hands falling away from his face to reveal a smirk of his own. "Really now?" he asked.

Peeta blushed, looking away in embarrassment. "Yes."

Now that they were on the same level, Cato seemed to relax a lot more. He was grinning like a chesire cat now. "So, since you know what sort of things I dream about, what happens in yours?" he asked.

"I-It's pretty much the same," Peeta said, so fast his words ran into each other. He wasn't like Cato, he couldn't discuss this sort of thing like there was nothing wrong with it. Then again, there really wasn't anything wrong with it, he was just easily embarrassed. Especially when it concerned this sort of thing. "What happens in _your_ dreams?"

Cato shrugged, an almost coy smile on his face. "Probably exactly what I did to you in my sleep," he said. "What did I do to you exactly? Was it bad?"

"No, it wasn't bad," replied Peeta. He took a hold of Cato's hands again, liking the feeling of them holding onto each other. Remembering the feeling of Cato's fingers against his skin made his face heat up, this time not in embarrassment. "One hand was kinda in my pants and the other . . ."

Cato's eyes gleamed with amusement. "The other . . . ?" he prompted.

"Was here." Before he could rethink it, Peeta pulled his pyjama shirt up a little bit and placed Cato's hand over his breast. He flinched a little on contact but adjusted, unable to deny that his boyfriend's warm palm felt glorious against his skin.

Cato locked eyes with Peeta, who still held his hand ontop of his pale skin. In that moment, neither of them cared about body or gender, they just needed each other. Cato captured his lips in hungry urgency, wishing to steal his lover's breath, and kissed him deeply. Peeta responded eagerly, mindlessly opening his mouth as Cato probed for entrance.

Peeta's hands slid up his arms and joined together in his hair, threading together at the top of his head. Cato, fuelled by months of lust and desire, wound an arm around his waist and pulled him closer to his body, so they were pressed against each other. One hand stayed splayed out on the younger boy's hip, the one that Peeta had put on his chest himself began to explore the unfamaliar terrain.

He was gentle, despite the fact his hormones were raging inside of him. He tenderly squeezed the soft flesh, growing more confident when Peeta whined and clutched his hair tighter. His fingers teased the sensitive tip of his nipple, pinching and rolling until it was rock hard. Peeta moaned into Cato's mouth, his nails dragging down his back desperately.

Cato shivered and tugged on the bottom of Peeta's pyjama shirt, giving him the decision of whether he wanted to keep it on or not. Whether he did this because he was just as frustrated as he was or not, Cato wasn't sure, but Peeta nodded quickly and shoved the corners of his shirt into his boyfriend's hands.

Not wasting time, Cato pulled the shirt over the younger boy's head, his eyes immediately going to Peeta's own blue orbs. They were dark with lust but didn't hint at discomfort or fear. Encouraged by this, Cato then looked at Peeta's bared breasts. Even though he had seen them before, they were just as gorgeous as the first time.

He cupped the back of Peeta's neck and started kissing his way down from his jawline to his collarbone. Peeta sighed and closed his eyes, his hands unable to find rest anywhere on Cato's back. Cato nipped at the sensitive skin between his neck and shoulder, swirling his tongue around the bitten area. Peeta gasped as the kisses started getting near his chest as even though he had been craving this for so long, he was still quite nervous.

Cato placed feathery kisses on the skin around one of Peeta's nipples, his hand taking care of the neglected breast by sensually massaging it. Peeta pulled his mouth away from the kiss for air, his back unintentionally arching into Cato's mouth and hand and his breath coming out in agonized gasps. A shiver jittered down his spine, goosepimples rising across the expanse of his skin.

When Cato enclosed the heated bud between his lips and sucked gently, it forced air from Peeta's lungs so he couldn't breathe anymore. A tiny gasp escaped him and he whimpered in a high pitched voice he was ashamed of. It was a tiny piece of Perry slipping through and he didn't like it.

His nerves were on fire with a good sort of burn. But it was a bit too much and it was consuming him. He couldn't breathe, having to gasp like a goldfish to get some air into his lungs. Cato noticed his sudden panic and asked, "Are you okay?" he asked.

Peeta shook his head, trying to get his thoughts in line. "It's just a bit much. I've never done this before," he admitted sheepishly.

Cato nodded. "Do you want to stop?"

"No," said Peeta firmly. "I really want to do this but I . . . I don't even know why I'm panicking."

"Okay, maybe we should go a bit slower instead of rushing right into it just because we're horny," Cato suggested.

"Yeah," Peeta admitted.

Cato kissed the younger boy gently, lowering him onto his back on the bed. Peeta stroked his face and neck, his legs falling open to let Cato rest between them. Cato's hands brushed his sides, sending shivers through his being and causing goosepimples to rise across his skin.

"How long have you been having dreams like that about me?" Peeta murmured, his eyes slid shut in content as Cato practically made out with his neck.

"A few weeks, maybe," the older boy answered against his skin. "You?"

"Same," Peeta answered. He moaned and lifted his hips as Cato grazed a particularly sensitive part of his neck with his teeth. He was pratically hugging Cato's head with his arms, his hands buried in his hair as his lips caressed his skin. "It's a bit embarrassing, really."

"Trust me, I think we're both on the same page," Cato replied. He paused and looked at Peeta seriously. "You know you could have just told me."

"I couldn't and you know it," Peeta mumbled. He met Cato's gaze and smiled weakly. "But you know now," he said weakly. "Isn't that good?"

Cato grinned. "Totally."

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, it's exam season for my friend as well! :)**

**Pleae R&R! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"I crossed a line."

"No, you didn't."

"I crossed a line. Oh god, this is horrible!"

"Will you calm down, you didn't cross a line."

Peeta touched Cato's arm gently, smiling encouragingly. "Trust me, it's okay," he said. Cato shook his head, clearly in denial. "Okay, so we were kissing and you bucked your hips, so what? I thought it was cute."

"You yelped," said Cato slowly.

"Well, what did you want? A congratulatory speech about how you being unable to control yourself around me severely turns me on?" asked Peeta. He grinned at Cato's slightly blank but confused expression. "I'm not glass, don't treat me like it. I didn't honestly think I'd be the one to be the first to give this speech but here it goes: do what feels natural. Whatever you want to do, I'm all for it."

Cato chuckled, a smile forcing it's way through his panicked features. Peeta smiled back and leaned forward, pressing a sweet kiss against his lips. "You're so sexy when you talk dirty to me," Cato teased against his mouth.

"I learned from the best," Peeta returned. He patted Cato's cheek and slid out of his lap. "I need to go down to the shop." He paused, as if thinking something over, before adding, "To be continued."

Cato watched with a satisfied grin as Peeta gathered up his clothes and started dressing himself again. Now that they were out and the open about their obvious sexual attraction towards each other, they were more comfortable with expressing this attraction more openly. "I didn't know you had to work today."

"I don't, there's just a couple of bits and pieces we need. The fridge is looking depressingly empty."

This made Cato's grin widen. He was immensly proud of Peeta. There had been a time when he wouldn't have even stepped outside for the grocery delivery, now he was walking down to the shop to get the things he needed himself. It was a massive leap, a leap that Peeta had achieved by himself. Cato didn't believe he had as strong a part in Peeta's improvement that Peeta insisted. He was just someone who gave him an encouraging push.

"Where's my bandages?" Peeta mumbled, lifting the multiple items of clothing around, trying to find his compression bandages.

"Have you tried under the bed?" suggested Cato non-commitedly, not moving from his position on the bed.

Peeta dropped to his hands and knees and stuck his head under the bed. Cato snickered at how his backside stuck out the other end as he searched around underneath. "I don't think so!" Peeta came back up, his hair fuzzy with static. "You're the one who threw it, what direction did it go?"

"Uh," Cato scratched the back of his head and waved around flippantly, "somewhere?"

"You didn't see?!" exclaimed Peeta.

"Well, I was too busy with the topless boy in front of me," Cato answered.

Peeta rolled his eyes and got onto his hands and knees again, crawling around on the floor and searching around. Cato watched with increasing amusement as he clamoured over the bed. "Ah-ha!" Peeta grabbed the bandages, which lay limply on the floor, and jumped to his feet. His flushed breasts bounced a little with him, the soft skin almost begging not to be bound to his chest again. His nipples were nearly red, hard from being exposed to a mixture of the cold, curious fingers and an explorative mouth.

"Do you really have to go?" Cato whined.

"Yes, we need milk."

"Well, we don't _need_ milk . . ."

"Yes, we do. I'm not eating dry Cheerios anymore," Peeta declared firmly. Cato pouted and he faltered a little. He sighed heavily. "Say goodbye to the boobs, Cato."

"Bye boobs, Cato," Cato mumbled. Peeta patted his head, almost like praising a dog, and started bandaging his chest back up.

"As I said, to be continued," Peeta said, before shrugging on his shirt and pants. He leaned forward and kissed Cato, holding his face for a moment before pulling away and smiling. "I'll be back soon."

Cato grinned. "You better be, I'm not done with you," he replied, swatting Peeta's ass as he turned to leave.

The younger boy laughed. "Shimmer down, big boy," he replied. "See you later."

"See ya!"

Peeta shook his head as he jumped down the stairs two at a time, feeling surprisingly light ever since Cato and him had came clean about the depth of their feelings towards each other. It was like the tension between them had faded and their protective barriers had broken down. They were much more comfortable with each other, drawn towards each other like magnets.

He went outside and smiled as the sun immediately beat down on his face. It felt like centuries since he had felt real sunlight on his skin, felt warm inside and out. Peeta enjoyed everything a little bit more than before. Walking to the shops was a lovely experience, not a terrifying task; the pavement wasn't dull and black tarmac, it was a mixture of different shades of black that aid him towards his destination; the sky was a gorgeous blue that wasn't nature's way of taunting him, but was instead a beautiful canvas of infinite possibilites.

All because of Cato.

Peeta had never felt like this about someone before, not even when he was with Marvel. Then again, he had only been with Marvel for survival purposes and it didn't take him long after he left to know that he had been in an extremely vulnerable position at the time. Even if the perveriest of perverts had came to him, offered him a job and showed interest in him then, he probably would have fell into their arms as well and believed he had fallen in love with them as well.

Of course, he was always going to be nervous. Even when he walked the streets to go to the shop for milk and bread, there would always be an underlying tint of anxiety. He couldn't get rid of it, even if he tried. But once he was able to be who he wanted to be, body as well as mind, Peeta knew, he _knew_, he'd be much more comfortable. No more nervousness. No more anxiety. He'd be free.

It was so within reach, for once in what felt like forever.

Peeta was near the shop when he saw Marvel leaning against the wall, waiting on him. As soon as they locked eyes, Peeta spun on his heel and started back the way he came. He instantly knew that Marvel would follow him, he was just that sort of person.

"Don't you need something?" asked Marvel from somewhere behind him.

"Not while you're there," Peeta replied.

"Don't be like that."

"Like what? I'm not being like anything in particular."

Marvel managed to round on Peeta and grabbed his arm to stop him from walking any further away from him. Peeta noticed that he had a plastic bag in his hands. "I knew you were going to do this so I bought you a couple of things," his ex explained.

"How do you know what we need?" asked Peeta.

"'We'?"

Peeta nodded slowly. "Yeah. My boyfriend and I live together," he said, as if speaking to a toddler. "And I'd tread very carefully if I were you because he knows about our meeting and will not think twice about hurting you if he catches us together."

Marvel's eyes widened. "You actually _told _him about our meeting? And he wasn't angry with you at all?" he asked.

"That's because he knows it's not my fault," Peeta said. Marvel, undeterred, passed him over the plastic bag full of food none-the-less. "But he knows that you are the one at fault and he will kill you."

"And where is your darling boyfriend then?" asked Marvel, quirking an interested eyebrow. He leaned forward curiously, prompting Peeta to lean away. "Your cheeks are all flushed," he noted. "My guess is that he's probably waiting at home for you to return, probably naked, ready to ravage you as soon as you get through the door."

Peeta pulled a face, switching the hands in which he held the bag. "I don't have to answer you," he stated.

Marvel grinned. He was clearly amused. "I'm right, aren't I?" he said.

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to."

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Are we done here? I've got things to do."

Marvel looked reluctant to let him leave, his eyes shining with affection. Peeta felt almost small under his gaze. It was almost like he was sixteen again, shivering in the cold photography studio while Marvel set up his camera, readying himself to abuse him in such a provocative way.

When Marvel didn't answer him, Peeta turned to leave, but was stopped when his ex grabbed his wrist to stop him. "Wait."

"What?" Peeta asked, exasperated.

"You obviously don't trust me," Marvel said.

"I trust you as far as I can throw you," answered Peeta.

Marvel raised his eyebrows. "Which isn't very far?" he guessed.

Peeta lifted his arm, the one not holding the bag, and flexed. "I have zero muscle, I can't even lift you, let alone throw you," he said flatly. Marvel wrapped his hand around his bicep, ignoring the younger boy's flinch, and rubbed his thumb along his skin.

"Jesus, you look like a ghost," he said. "I'm guessing you don't sunbathe too often?"

Peeta pulled his arm away and rubbed the arm as if Marvel had held a lit lighter to it. "Of course I don't sunbathe," he said, his tone withered. "I haven't left my house for two years."

"Oh wow, so you've been a hermit?" asked Marvel, sounding amused.

"If you like."

Marvel got uncomfortably close but when Peeta tried to move away, his back bumped into a wall behind him. He hadn't realized he had been avoiding getting close to Marvel as often as he had. His ex reached out and softly cupped his cheek, using his thumb to brush underneath his eye.

"I remember when I first saw you there was a dark blue bruise under this eye," Marvel said, almost to himself.

Peeta remembered that bruise. He hadn't been hit by anyone, thank god, but he had tripped on the heels he had to wear in Gloss' bar and hit his face off the corner of the bar. A couple of days later was when he had been 'scouted' by Marvel. This had increased the belief that Marvel was a genuine guy, because he saw something in him, even when his face had been blemished.

"It's gone now," said Peeta, stating the obvious. His eye fluttered, not liking the feeling of a rough thumb pressed against his lower eyelid. "Now please remove your hand from my face."

"You're such a beautiful girl," Marvel said quietly. "Why are you destroying yourself?"

"Because I am a boy, can't you see that?" Peeta knew it was still a lost cause but even if there was the slimest of chances of convincing someone of his true identity, it was worth a shot.

"From where I'm standing, all I can see is the girl I fell in love with," Marvel replied.

"I'm not her anymore. I never was, really."

Marvel smiled and swooped down, kissing him firmly. Peeta recoiled and pushed at his shoulders. Marvel's lips were cold, unlike Cato's, and gave him no excitement or thrill what-so-ever. "Stop it," Peeta warned when he finally got Marvel's mouth off him. "Don't do it to yourself."

"I'm not doing anything to myself," insisted Marvel. He tried to kiss him again but Peeta dodged it, pushing away from the wall and starting to walk away again.

"Yes, you are. Why don't you search for another relationship? Someone who might actually like you back?" Peeta asked when Marvel started following him again. "I'm sure there's a girl out there who would love to date you. I'm just not your guy."

"You're right, you're not my guy. You're my girl."

Peeta rolled his eyes and whirled around. "Look, I'm not your girl. I'm not your girlfriend or finace or wife or lover. I'm a boy. A boy you could have accepted into your life but you refused to. If you liked me as much as you claim, you wouldn't have treated me the way you did, you wouldn't have threatened to expose my secret and certainly wouldn't have abused me when I was at my most vulnerable. So either leave me alone or I won't stop Cato next time he wants to rough you up, alright?"

Marvel narrowed his eyes and tried to answer, but Peeta just held a hand up to him off, saying, "Don't bother," before storming off.

~xXx~

Peeta unloaded the groceries Marvel gave him, worried as to how his ex knew everything that they had needed. Milk, eggs, butter, biscuits . . . He stared at the food set out on the counter and a shiver passed through him. Had Marvel been watching them, somehow? Even though it didn't make sense, where Marvel was concerned, anything was plausible.

Ignoring the worry churning in his guts, Peeta went upstairs. Cato wasn't where he had left him in bed but he wasn't concerned as he heard the water running in the next room. Unsure of himself, Peeta went to the mirror and pulled his shirt over his head. Everytime he spoke to Marvel now, he felt a need to assure himself that what he would say to him wasn't true.

It was hard, since all he saw in the mirror was a soft body wrapped up in bandages. But surely he was making progress, since he had been socilalizing a lot more since Cato had come into his life. He had made friends with Clove and was part of a healthy relationship. And that was all as Peeta. Not Perry. Or Maddy, for that matter.

It was all mind over matter.

Peeta frowned as he noticed something odd. He turned sideways. His eyes widened as he saw that his chest was curving out a little bit. Had he not tightened the bandages enough? What if someone in time noticed his breasts? What if they put two and two together? Did Marvel see it? Was that why he wasn't as forceful? Did he know that his chest was sticking out?

Cato came into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist and drying his hair with another. Peeta blushed at the sight of his boyfriend's chiselled body, feeling a little inadequate in his small, female form. "Cato, is my chest prominant?" he asked.

Cato examined his reflection in the mirror. "No," he said. "Why?"

"Are you sure? It's not tight enough," Peeta mumbled self-consciously. He reached behind him and fiddled with the bandage, trying to pull it tighter against himself.

"Peeta, it's fine." Cato stepped closer and touched Peeta's hands, trying to stop his movements. "You're going to end up crushing your chest again."

"No, I'm not," he said, "you can see my breasts, I know you can."

"Hey, hey stop it," Cato assured gently. He brushed Peeta's hands away. "Trust me, you can't see your breasts."

Peeta wasn't sure if Cato was being honest or if it was just his encounter with Marvel that was making him paranoid. Turning away from the mirror and putting his ex out of his mind, Peeta smiled hopefully at Cato. "I wasn't out long, was I?" he asked.

"Nope," answered Cato. He leaned down and pecked Peeta's lips before mumbling, "So what did you say about something being continued?"

Peeta smiled into the kiss. "I don't know, I can't really remember," he teased. "You might have to refresh my memory."

Cato grinned and tightened his arms around the younger boy's waist. "With pleasure," he purred, before reclaiming Peeta mouth in a shearing kiss.

~xXx~

Watching Peeta in the shower was the most seductive thing Cato had ever witnessed. His boyfriend wasn't even trying to be sexy but was instead just washing the sweat off his body from their 'activities' earlier. They hadn't had sex, not yet. They had agreed to take it slow after all and really all they had been doing was some heavy petting. Extremely intense heavy petting.

And, of course, Cato wasn't being a peeping Tom by watching Peeta shower either . . . Right? The younger boy had grown to be a lot more confident in his skin anyway, climbing out of bed topless after their . . . 'heavy petting' . . . and would walk around the room without worry in search of his bandages again. Maybe it was because he kenw Cato wasn't going to judge him. Or that in a couple of years time he wouldn't have to worry about his breasts anymore. Whichever one it was, it only made Cato all the more prouder of him.

Okay, so maybe he was a bit of a peeping Tom. But could you blame him? His boyfriend was _gorgeous._

Peeta used his own hands to rub the body wash over his skin, scrubbing himself down in a way that in the eyes of the innocent would be viewed as normal washing but in the corrupted vision of a pervert could be seen as a very erotic scene. The suds gathered and slid down his wet body, pooling at his feet before whizzing down the drain.

There was one point, when he had taken the showerhead off the attachment to wash . . . urm . . . down below, when the young boy accidently prodded a frayed nerve. The water must have pelted itself onto something sensitive as he had bit his fist, his eyes fluttering almost sleepily. Cato had watched in bemusement as Peeta toes curled in desire and had to quickly reattach the showerhead, cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment.

Cato knew that he had it bad for this boy. Real bad.

~xXx~

"I never thought to ask, do you shave?"

Peeta blinked, bewildered by the random question. "Excuse me?" Cato and him were both reading on the sofa, his legs slung over the older boy's lap, when he asked the weird question.

"I was just wondering, because your skin's so smooth," Cato mused, his hand rubbing Peeta's bare leg thoughtfully. "But you must still grow hair, right?"

The book he had been reading long forgotten, Peeta chewed the inside of his cheek. "I do," he admitted. "Both, really. I grow hair but only bother with shaving my legs and underarms. I would have done it even if I was in a boy's body anyway, because I can't stand body hair."

"Oh, well, thanks," Cato said sarcastically.

"On myself, I mean," Peeta quickly corrected. "You suit it, I don't."

"Isn't it a bit tiring? Having to shave all the time?"

"Meh, you get used to it. It's kind of a pain in the neck, I guess."

Cato let his hand rest on Peeta's shin, the skin on skin contact burning like a fire waiting to be ignited. He looked at his boyfriend with serious eyes. "Any word from Marvel?" he asked. "He hasn't threatened you anymore or anything?"

Peeta shook his head. He decided not to bring up the grocery incident. He wasn't sure why, Marvel didn't deserve his leaniance, but he couldn't do it. Maybe a part of him was still that scared, sixteen year old, the one who was shivering and afraid of where his next meal was coming from. Peeta wished that part of him was dead, but something told him it was never going to go away.

"Nope," he said, swinging his legs off of Cato and standing up. He stretched, his bones cracking back into place, and stepped over the coffee table to get to the kitchen. "Tea?"

"Yes, please."

While Peeta made the tea, he could feel Cato's eyes on him the entire time. There was no door or wall separating the living room and the kitchen so you can sit in the living room and see right into the kitchen and vice versa. "Stop staring at my chest."

"I'm not staring at your chest."

"Oh, really, now?"

"I'm staring at your ass."

Peeta snorted. Was there really a difference? Although, he was being a bit hypocrital, since he sometimes sneaked little glances at Cato's abs when he wasn't looking. They were so defined, they could literally cut glass. He came back in with their mugs and set them down on the coffee table.

Cato put his book down and wrapped his arms around Peeta's small waist, pulling him down into his lap. Peeta's body fit against his perfectly, like two puzzle pieces joining together. "Is it bad that all I want to do right now is kiss you until you can't breathe?" the older boy mumbled into his partner's neck.

Peeta laughed softly. "I don't know," he said, "is it?"

Cato played with Peeta's fingers, his lips brushing the delicate line of the young boy's pulse point. Peeta melted into him, sighing and trying to ignore the fact that they were sitting in such a fashion that Cato's knee was pressing against a rather sensitive area of his, causing a gorgeous pressure to build up in his abdamon. He resisted the urge to slip his hands under his pants, like he normally would, to relieve himself and just hung in there.

The letter box clinked suddenly. Confused, Peeta slipped off Cato and went to the front door. No one sent him letters. Ever.

He picked up the white envelope with the red wax seal on the back. It said _Peeta_ on the front so it was obviously for him. He ripped it open none too gracefully and read what was written on the paper inside.

_"To my darling Peeta, (Maddy)._

_Your presence is requested at the house of Marvel Wittaker (Me) for Friday night at 9:00. It is recognized that you said that you'd get to choose the days of your meetings but it didn't seem likely that after what happened the other day you'd be too keen to keep your promise. _

_If you tell your boyfriend about THIS meeting, your secret will get leaked everywhere, the photograph on a mass email ready to be sent to everyone you know. Please don't be late, Marvel depises tardiness._

_Heaps of love from, _

_Marvel Wittaker_

_xoxoxo times infinity."_

What sort of fruit writes a letter about themselves in third person?

"Is everything alright?" Cato asked from the sofa.

Peeta smiled and nodded, "Yeah. Just one of those supermarket ads." There was a small note at the bottom he almost missed:

_"P.S: Wear something pretty."_

Marvel had him stuck.

**A/N: Please R&R! :D**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Warnings: They have the sexes is this chapter ^_^**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games! :D**

**Ten**

The more frustrated he got with Marvel, the more he fooled around with Cato.

Whether it was pent up annoyance or just straight up anger, Peeta wasn't sure, but it was a lovely distraction all the same.

It was like Cato knew that there was something he desperately wanted to forget. He knew exactly where to touch him so that he'd cry out or moan or whine and beg. He knew exactly what would make him purr, what would make him buck his hips, what made his brain malfuction so he didn't have to think.

. . .

Cato slowly lowered Peeta onto his back on the bed. He gauged his reaction as he spread his legs and hooked his thumbs into his underwear. Peeta nodded desperately, his hips lifting desperately as it searched for the fingers that had been touching him before. Cato threw his boxers to the floor and spread Peeta's legs a little bit more, exposing his glistening, pink sex.

Peeta expected more fingers but his eyes shot open in surprise when he felt something warm and wet against his sensitive skin. His legs clenched together, accidentally trapping Cato's head, and his back arched in pleasure, his breasts heaving with his breathing. Cato licked him out with abandon, gently tugging on his clit with his teeth until he cried out and begged for more.

_"Yeah, you like that don't you, you little slut."_

His eyes flew open and he was horrified to find Marvel hovering over the bed with a grin on his face. Cato didn't notice, instead continuing his assault on Peeta's underwear region. Marvel smirked evilly and purred, _"Moan for me baby."_

Peeta awoke with a scream.

"Peeta!" Cato exclaimed. He jumped upright in surprise. He tried to grab Peeta to calm him down but the younger boy was still half in his nightmare and he screamed and lashed out. "Peeta, stop, it's okay!"

"Ah! Stop it! Let go of me!" Peeta shouted, struggling out of Cato's arms and throwing the duvet over his head. His heart pounded in his chest, so hard that he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. He curled up in a ball on the mattress, trying to make himself as small as possible.

"Hey, is everything alright?" Cato said. He reached out as if to touch Peeta but quicky retracted it when he saw how he was trembling. "I'm guessing this isn't because I sleep touched you again, is it?"

"N-No," Peeta replied. His head hurt and his cheeks were damp with tears. The nightmares had been going on all week and it was getting harder and harder to hide from Cato. He couldn't catch his breath, gasping at oxygen that wasn't there. "J-Just a nightmare."

Cato gently tugged the duvet down so he could see Peeta's face. He gently touched the shivering boy's cheek and wiped the tears from his cheeks. "It's okay now, it's all over," he said, trying to sound soothing. There was nothing else he could do, since the nightmares had been getting worse but comfort him and say that everything was going to be alright. "Come here." He folded Peeta into his arms and couldn't help thinking about how he felt so small and frail in the embrace.

Peeta didn't lash out again, laying his head on Cato's chest and letting his eyes flutter shut again. His breathing was hard and he fisted Cato's shirt in his hand but he didn't make another sound. It was like he didn't want to disturb someone, or hoped the silence would drown out the pain from the nightmares.

Somehow, he found sleep again.

The nightmares were getting worse because, on some level, Peeta knew what Marvel wanted off him. He wanted to have sex with Maddy, an experience he had missed out on that he intended to furfil. And he was going to stop at nothing to get it, obviously. And this terrified Peeta. Because he didn't want to have sex with Marvel, whether it be as Maddy or himself. But there was nothing he could do about it, either.

Marvel certainly didn't seem to be the 'be gentle with me' sort of lover and wasn't going to care about the fact that Peeta was a virgin and that it was probably going to hurt. Peeta could imagine it horribly vividly, blood staining white sheets, a burning pain lacing through his body, like his bowels were collapsing inside of him. When he went to Marvel's house on Friday, he was going to be tied down and fucked. Plain and simple. And if he wanted his secret to be kept, he was going to have to do it. Without telling Cato.

The worst thing of all was, from their previous relationship, Peeta knew Marvel through and through. He knew what sort of guy he was, he knew what he wanted from a partner. One day, in the photography studio, they had gotten extremely close to having sex with each other but Peeta-or 'Maddy'-chickened out.

Maddy's reluctance to let Marvel do this to her was also one of the contributing factors as to why she did the topless shoot for him: Guilt. Marvel had made her feel extremely guilty about not having sex with him and she felt horrible about it to the point that she bared her breasts in front of the camera for his own sick pleasure.

Cato was understanding. He cradled Peeta through his nightmares and didn't ask what they were about. Even when he screamed or lashed out or shouted at him or didn't them him touch him.

"You would you tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn't you?" Cato asked that Wednesday. Two days before Peeta had to meet Marvel.

Peeta played with the pen in his hand, picking at the price sticker still attached to it. "Yeah, of course," he replied.

"Because you can, anything," Cato said.

"I know," Peeta nodded. He wished he could tell Cato about the letter, but the risk of Marvel exposing him was too great. And if Cato found out and went to Marvel then it would be obvious that Peeta told him and he would send out that email he described.

"Your nightmares have been getting worse," Cato observed. "Is everything okay?"

_No._ "Yeah."

To distract Cato from the conversation, from his temptation to find out what was wrong, by saying, "I want to get rid of some of Perry's stuff. But I don't think I can go through it all on my own. Will you help me?" he asked.

Cato didn't seem to keen on switching the subject so suddenly but knew that it was clear that Peeta didn't want to talk about his nightmares. Besides, he was honoured that his boyfriend trusted him enough to ask if he would go through Perry's stuff with him. "Of course I will," he said.

It turned out, Peeta had kept a lot of Perry's stuff. A lot of cardboard boxes were kept at the back of his wardrobe, filled with his old things from when he lived with his parents. There were barbie dolls, rag dolls, pieces of clothes, books, drawings. It was all very pink and fluffy. Glitter and sparkles.

"It's all very . . ." Cato trailed off, unsure of what the right word was.

"I know," Peeta replied. He held a limp ragdoll in his hands. It had blonde-ginger hair and wore a red spotted dress with matching ribbons. "I want to keep this one, only her though," he mumbled.

"Why her?"

"I got her when I was a baby and don't really have the heart to give her away." Peeta smiled fondly. "Her name's Patrice."

"Patrice," Cato voiced. "That's a nice name." He moved his hand around inside the box and pulled out something else. His face fell when he realized it was a bra. Peeta snickered a little at his surprised face.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Peeta said, taking it off him and scrunching it up in his hands. "I was a teenager, Cato. Even if I didn't like it, I still had to wear the appropriate clothing."

"I know, it's just . . . I'm so used to you being a boy, I can't imagine you being a girl," Cato explained. Peeta's smile was so bright it was blinding. "I know a cash for clothes place you can get right of all the clothes if you want."

"Okay." Peeta handed the bra back over with a sheepish smile. "Just don't say where they came from, okay?"

"What would I say? It belongs to the boy who just recently starting coming out of his house?" Cato joked.

"You could do," Peeta replied.

Cato flicked the label on the garment and raised his eyebrows. "You were a D?" he asked.

Peeta's cheeks tinged pink. "Yeah," he said. "But the bandages kind of made it shrink a little."

"Is that possible?"

"I think so."

Peeta pulled another box out of the wardrobe, this one duct taped who knew how many times. "I want to get rid of all of this box," he said. "I don't want to open it but I don't care what's done with it. Toss it out or sell what's in it or whatever."

"What is in it?" asked Cato.

"Items of unimportance," Peeta answered. He took in Cato's blank expression and sighed. "Just a few bits and pieces from when I was with Gloss and Marvel."

This was answer enough. Cato picked up the box and kicked it under the bed for the time being. "I'll chuck it all away," he said. Peeta nodded, obviously thankful. "You don't need any reminders of them in your life anymore. You've got me."

Peeta then surprised him by kissing him. Patrice clenched in his hands and pushed up on his tiptoes, he was so sweet Cato couldn't help holding his face in his hands and keeping him close. He didn't know what was upsetting him, or what was causing his nightmares, all he could do was look after him.

Sometimes, Cato wished he could express all the words he couldn't say in the way he kissed Peeta. He had never been good with words, you see, and hated how he couldn't find the right ones that told Peeta how much he loved him. Because he did. He really loved him.

"You know you don't have to let the past haunt you," Cato murmured against his mouth. Instead of getting a response, the young boy just shrugged. He pulled back a little and tipped Peeta's chin up with his knuckle so he'd look him in the eyes. "I'm serious, you don't."

Peeta nodded. He thought of Marvel, who was still there to haunt him anyway, and of how he was going to take his virginity from him in such a painful way. It was something he didn't want to give to Marvel, it was something he wanted to give to Cato. He pushed onto his tiptoes again and captured Cato's lips in a sheering kiss. His hands were squeezing the life out of poor Patrice but he didn't care.

All he wanted was now. This moment with Cato.

He wanted to finally become intimate with him without freaking out.

Having the most confidence he has ever had, Peeta stepped back and threw Patrice onto the windowsill bench. Cato tried to reconnect their lips but Peeta shook his head and gave his chest a little push. He grabbed both ends of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it off to the side. Cato's eyes darkened with lust as he took in his naked torso. Well, almost naked.

Peeta knew there really was no sexy way to take off a mirage of bandages but he tried anyway, slowly unravelling them until his old 'D' sized breasts spilled out. Without meeting Cato's eyes, he unbuckled his belt and bent down slowly to peel off his jeans, leaving them on the floor as he stepped out of them. That left him in his underwear, hoping to god that Cato wouldn't think him too feminine for his liking.

"You are so beautiful," Cato breathed, surprising him.

Peeta smiled, those four words reigniting his hope. He climbed onto the bed and crawled as seductively as he could, hoping he was achieving his goal of driving Cato wild before turning back around and lying on his back on the pillows. They were a little propped up so he could see his partner staring at him at the foot of the bed.

"I want you," he purred. "And to prove it, I want you to see all of me."

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slid them down his legs, kicking them off at his ankles and letting his legs fall apart to expose the one place he hadn't let anyone see with their eyes. Sure, Gloss had touched him there, and Marvel had almost seen it through skimpy lingerie, but Peeta had never let anyone see that place that was supposed to be a sign of womanhood. Ever.

Until now.

Peeta refused to meet Cato's eyes. He shut his own eyes tight and counted backwards from sixty, deciding that if he didn't get a reaction after that then he would get dressed and never show anyone himself so vulnerable ever again. At the end of the countdown, he didn't open his eyes, feeling on the verge of tears. Oh how stupid he had been to think Cato wouldn't react badly to this!

A hand gently touched his cheek and Peeta nuzzled his face into it. "Peeta, open your eyes," Cato whispered. Peeta's eyes fluttered open to find Cato sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, a smile on his face. "You are beautiful," his partner whispered, leaning forward and pecking his lips. "Absolutely gorgeous."

"Really?" Peeta whispered, scared he was lying.

"Really."

They kissed firecely. Peeta pulled Cato down ontop of him, tugging at his shirt impaitently as a sign for it to come off. Once the offending garment was gone, Peeta pawed at his boyfriend's naked and perfectly sculpted torso. Cato groaned and kissed his neck, his hands feathering down his sides and tickling his hips. They travelled down his bare thighs and legs, smoothing down the tender skin before hooking around his knees and pulling around his waist.

Peeta started unbuckling Cato's pants, pushing them off with his feet until they were down far enough that Cato could kick them off himself. His hands fumbled with his underwear but Cato grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head in one hand. Peeta squirmed, demanding, "Let me go, that's not fair!"

Cato smirked evillay. He enclosed a soft breast in his warm hand, squeezing and moulding the sensitive skin against his chest. Peeta moaned, his hips rutting against Cato's crotch, seeking friction. Cato himself was having the time of his life, massaging his breasts with impressive vigor and making sure he gave both equal attention. "If only I had one of my ties on me," he purred, presisng a kiss against Peeta's swollen lips, "then I could make both of them feel good at once."

Peeta groaned at the thought, his hips arching into Cato again as he imagined being tied down and defenceless infront of his lover. He hadn't thought of himself as the masochist sort but the thought of being blindfolded or gagged or tied up, vulnerable so Cato could do what he wanted with his body made his neither regions slicken with desire.

Cato's lips found his nipple, enclosing around the taut bud and sucking. Peeta yelped, his heels digging into Cato's back as his legs tightened around his waist. "Let my hands go!" he begged.

To his surprise, Cato did what he said, but before he could even think about wrapping his arms around his neck and clinging to him like he had planned, the other hand had found the neglected side of his chest and was making sure it got the same attention as the one he was currently working on.

"Please, Cato, I need you," Peeta begged, not knowing how much longer he could hold out. Cato pulled back, suddenly unsure. The saliva on Peeta's test made his nipples harden painfully in the cold air and he bit his lip at the feeling.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"I am," Peeta insisted. He sat up as and turned around, getting onto his hands and knees on the bed. "I want you."

Seeing his boyfriend in such a submissive position, Cato couldn't resist. He rained kisses up the line of his spine, his hands sliding up his sides and stroking the sides of his breasts as he whispered in his ear, "You didn't answer my question."

"Which one?" Peeta moaned.

"Do you want to do it anally or vaginally?" Cato couldn't think of a way to put it any nicer.

"Anally, please," Peeta purred. "Take me like the man I'm going to be."

Cato smiled affectionately and kissed Peeta's ear. He let his fingers press against Peeta's lips, who knew what to do immediately and took them into his warm mouth and sucking them. Cato nipped the shell of his ear, letting his hands slid back down his back to his backside. He squeezed his soft cheeks, enjoying the whine it coaxed from the younger boy, and slipped the first finger inside.

Peeta squirmed and buried his face into the pillow. Cato stroked his hair and shushed him softly when he whimpered. He let another finger push in and scissored his hole, wincing when Peeta cried out in pain. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes," Peeta said quietly. "Keep going." It took a couple of minutes, but Cato's fingers eventually found his prostate, the find announced by a high pitched whine from his lover. Peeta moaned and squirmed, insisting, "I'm ready for you, Cato, now please!"

Cato shrugged off his underwear and entered Peeta carefully. He rubbed his back tenderly when he shrieked in pain and caressed his thigh to comfort him. Being inside Peeta was amazing. His entrance was so hot and tight. It was a little strange though, since he had only ever fucked guys in the ass and expected to feel his balls pressing against his own. Instead, however, there was warm, slick lips.

"Move Cato," Peeta choked out, grinding back against him. "I'm ready."

Cato didn't need to be told twice and started moving, thrusting in and out of Peeta slowly at first, but quickly building tempo. They were a tangle of gasps and moans, screams and whines, sweat and limbs. It was perfect, amazing, starlike. Everything you want the first time you make love with someone.

Peeta's back arched and he whined as he orgasmed. Cato followed a little while later, filling his ass with his cum. He pulled out and Peeta rolled onto his back. His eyes were wide with wonder. "That was amazing," he breathed.

"I know," Cato replied, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. It hadn't felt that amazing with anyone he'd ever been with before. Maybe that was because he hadn't been with anyone he'd really loved before.

"Is it weird that I'm still kind of horny?" Peeta asked.

Cato laughed. "Of course not," he chuckled. "The idea that you get tired immediately is a myth fabricated by porn authors anyway."

"So we can do it again?" Peeta asked eagerly, like an excited puppy.

"Sure, just give me a moment, I don't have your stamina," Cato replied, sitting down on the bed and getting his breath back.

Peeta crawled over and sat beside him. It was nice to be with Cato like this. It almost made the worries of Friday fly away. Almost. He kissed Cato's shoulder and sighed. "This time, can . . . can you do it . . ."

"The other way?" asked Cato.

Peeta nodded. He wanted Cato to take his feminie virginity before Marvel could. If he was going to be raped on Friday, he didn't want to give his attacker the pleasure of taking away his purity.

Cato grinned and pulled him into his lap. "You mean, here?" His pointer finger glided along his wet folds. Peeta shuddered and nodded. Cato pushed his finger inside and Peeta gasped, pressing himself against his boyfriend desperately. "You're so wet, is that because of me?" Cato purred into his ear.

"Y-yeah," Peeta stuttered. The finger inside of him stroked the tender skin carefully, gliding up and down, stopping right where he wanted to be touched desperately and going over it.

"I must turn you on so much," Cato teased, taking his earlobe into his mouth and sucking on it. Peeta moaned, idly scratching the older boy's back with his nails. "What do you want?"

"I w-want you to touch me," Peeta mumbled into the crook of Cato's neck.

"Sorry?"

"I want you to touch me," he repeated, louder this time.

Cato kissed the side of his head and finally touched the aching bundle of nerves. Peeta moaned, his hips bucking a little in arousal. Cato took his time as he fingered him, making sure every part of his anatomy was gently caressed and cared for. Peeta was a mess, writhing against him, breathlessly whining and begging for more.

When Cato stopped, Peeta whimpered. His eyes widened when his boyfriend sucked his fingers clean and smirked at his stunned expression. Cato kissed him again, letting him taste himself against his glistening lips. "You taste wonderful," Cato murmured against his mouth.

Without having to be told, Peeta sank down onto Cato's length. His boyfriend hadn't been expecting it and clenched his arms tighter in his hands. It hurt, oh god, it really hurt. Peeta winced and bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to cry. He felt something trickle down his leg and Cato sucked in a breath.

"Baby, you're bleeding," he whispered. He sounded terrified.

"It's okay," Peeta ground out. "It happens."

"I'm pulling out, you're in pain-"

"Don't, I'm okay."

And he was. Seconds later, the pain subsided and Peeta let out a long breath of relief. He lifted his hips and sank back down, moaning at the delicious sensation it caused. Cato groaned, his hands sliding up his back to meet at his shoulder blades. He used the leverage to pull Peeta closer to him, nearly wrecking his tempo when he captured a nipple in his mouth and started sucking.

"C-C-Cato, ngh, this f-feels, so-so-so-"

"I know," Cato groaned, burying his face between Peeta's warm breasts and exhaling slowly.

"Tell me when you're going to let go," Peeta groaned, cradling his head in his arms. "I have to get off when you do."

"W-why?"

"It's my ovulation period, I can't risk getting p-pregnant." Peeta whined and grunted, swivelling his hips and griding down as hard as he could. He orgasmed again seconds later, this one more intense than the last.

"Okay, I'm going to cum," Cato groaned.

Peeta scrambled off him, hating how empty he felt afterward. Cato brought himself to the edge from their, masturbating to oblvion. It was actually quite a sexy sight and Peeta experienced a third orgasm just touching himself as he watched Cato self pleasure himself.

They fell asleep that night in a bundle of nudity and limbs. There were no barriers anymore. Nothing to keep them apart. Peeta's virginity was now Cato's property.

One less thing Marvel could take off him.

**A/N: Yay they finally did it! Little time to celebrate though, since Marvel is still looming in the shadows, waiting for the right time to pounce.**

**Please R&R! :D**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This chapter contains upsetting themes.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

**Eleven**

Peeta stood outside Marvel's house, the letter clutched his hands the same way he used to clutch Patrice at night when he was frightened. He climbed the steps nervously and waited for as long as possible before knocking. There was an instant answer, and Marvel stood in the threshold, beaming like a set of headlights.

"You came," he stated.

"I did?" Peeta asked sarcastically. "I thought this place was my house."

Marvel rolled his eyes, not appreciating the joke. "Come in," he said, stepping out of the way of the doorway to let him through. Peeta didn't miss the way his eyes did a swift inventory of his body as he entered the house. Urgh, did his libido ever get tired?

Marvel guided him into the sitting room, handing over a glass of wine that had already been poured. Peeta eyed the red fluid skeptically. "You didn't drug this, did you?" he asked.

"No, of course not," Marvel said. To prove it, he took the glass back and handed Peeta the one he had been holding. "I'm not that sad."

"Right," Peeta replied. He brought the glass hesitantly to his lips and took a sip out of it. Peeta was surprised that Marvel had remembered that he perfered white over red. It had been two years, after all. "I suppose this is where you're going to try and make me drunk?"

"Not at all." Marvel smiled and gestured for Peeta to follow him into the kitchen. A table was set up in the middle, with a sleek ivory table cloth and a candle lit ontop. "I drove to that Chinese Resturant you like and got that chicken and rice I know you love."

"You drove into town?" Peeta couldn't believe it. That was a twenty mile drive.

Marvel grinned. "I was hoping it would seem romantic," he said.

"I guess . . ." Peeta wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about it. He hadn't had food from that resturant ever since he went into hiding. He felt a little tempted to say that he wasn't hungry but his stomach then grumbled and gave him away. Marvel grinned and pulled a seat out for him, pushing it in once he sat down.

The food was as good as he remembered but it was hard to focus on it. Peeta was waiting for Marvel to do something terrifying. Because of this the food tasted like saw dust in his mouth. "Do you think you'll ever go back to being Maddy?" Marvel asked.

"No." It was an easy question. Something he could immediately answer. "No, I don't."

"How long have you felt like this?"

Peeta eyed him cautiously, wondering why he was suddenly so curious and ready to listen. "Since I was five years old," he replied.

"How does a five year old come to a conclusion like that?" Marvel seemed genuinely interested, which was odd, to say the least.

"When she's told to wear frilly dresses and all she sees is a boy wearing girl's clothes," Peeta shrugged. "And the interest in dolls and barbies and make-up begins to fade."

"But I don't understand," Marvel said. "You have a boyfriend, you're attracted to men. Surely that means that you're supposed to be a girl?"

"It's not a question of sexuality," Peeta replied. "It's my identity. Sure, I'm gay-"

"Some may argue, straight," Marvel added.

Peeta narrowed his eyes. "Sure, I'm gay," he repeated, "But that does not change the fact that I want to have a sex change."

Marvel nodded, silent for a moment as he tried to swallow what Peeta just said. Peeta was actually quite pleased that he was making an effort to understand. "If you haven't had this surgery yet, why is your chest so flat?" he asked.

"Compression bandages," Peeta explained. "They work quite well, especially since when you first saw me you thought I had already gotten rid of my breasts."

Marvel tsked. "I guess," he said.

After the dinner, Peeta was surprised when Marvel still didn't try anything. He couldn't understand what was happening. What was with his sudden change of heart? Something wasn't right. Could people really just change like that?

When they stood at the door, Marvel folded his arms and started to explain. "Look, I know you probably thought I was going to rape you or something while you were here," he said. "And I know you thought I was going to try it anyway, whether you came here or not, but I'm not a monster. I wouldn't force myself on someone who doesn't want me."

"You've been blackmailing me for weeks now," Peeta said slowly.

"Just because I thought I stood a chance with Maddy," Marvel answered. His eyebrows bowed up a little in discontent. "I thought I'd be able to get her back." He looked at Peeta hopefully. "Are you sure you can't be her?"

"It's not like DID Marvel, I can't switch between her and me, I'm sorry," said Peeta. He suddenly felt guilty. "I'm sure you will meet someone someday, who'll love you back."

Marvel nodded. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled something out. It was a small box, with a medical cross on it. "I got you this."

"What is it?" asked Peeta.

"Estrogen injections, enough for a year," said Marvel. "They'll lower your voice, make some facial hair grow ectera. My gift to you."

Peeta stared at the box. "What?" he asked.

"And I'll also pay for your surgery," Marvel insisted. "An apology for how I've treated you for the past . . . well, ever. I know I can't just throw a money at a problem but-"

"Marvel, I can't expect you to pay for my surgery." In fact, Peeta was stunned that he had offered. "It's a lot of money. You don't have to. I'm earning enough at the shop. I can't just take such an amount off you for no reason, it's not feesible."

Marvel's eyes glittered. "You could do one thing for me," he said.

Peeta narrowed his eyes. "What is it?" he said wearily.

"Answer a question?"

"What's the question?"

"Did you ever love me?"

The question made Peeta pause. He had expected something like how often does your boyfriend and you fuck, how big are your tits, how long does it take you to cum etc. Not this. Had he ever loved Marvel? Maddy had certainly trusted him but it hadn't been to the point of love. Surely it hadn't. You can't just drop love and yet as soon as he left, Peeta hadn't thought that much of Marvel.

"No."

As the seconds passed, Peeta could see something change in the Marvel. His eyes darkened and he scowled, as if he had been expecting a yes. Next thing Peeta could register, he was seeing stars. He blinked rapidly, trying to get them away, but they refused to fade. A pain was slowly building up at the back of his head and he felt like he was going to be sick. Concussion? Something was under his throat, cutting off his breathing.

"If you never loved me, why did you let me take pictures of you practically naked?" Marvel demanded fiercely. Peeta's eyes cleared and he could make him out. He wished he hadn't. Marvel's eyes were wild and feral. "If you never loved me, why did you let me do all that stuff for you? You were my photographic muse! You _did_ love me, you_ did_."

"Marvel, I'm sorry, I don't think-" Peeta regretted telling the truth. He should have known that Marvel would still have been a little unstable. But he had been so nice up until now, Peeta had genuinely thought he would understand.

"You let everyone do that to you then? Were you _really_ that desperate for money?" Marvel demanded. "Were you that much of a whore?"

"Shut up Marvel," Peeta snapped. "You know, I thought you were better, trying to understand me but I guess it's true that you're just an asswad!"

"Don't talk to me like that!" Marvel shouted. His arm pressed harder against Peeta's throat, cutting off his airways. "You did love me, even if you don't now."

Maybe he should just tell him that he did . . . To comfort him. To stop him from getting mad and doing something he regretted.

"Marvel," Peeta wheezed. "Marv, I c-c-can't breathe."

"No, Maddy, ssh, it's okay." Marvel looked completely feral by this point. The fact that he was calling him Maddy was evidence enough that he was getting past the point of sanity. "Don't look so panicked, I'm going to look after you like you deserve."

That's when Peeta became aware of the hand on his hip. He tried to inch away but Marvel still had an arm against his throat. "You don't have to do do anything," Peeta whispered. He tensed when a twisted grin appeared on Marvel's face.

"Sssh Maddy, it's alright," whispered Marvel. He kissed Peeta roughly to silence any other words. Even though he had known it was coming, now that it was happening, Peeta didn't want it to go any further. He tried to yell in protest but Marvel bit down on his lip so hard it started to bleed.

"My name is Peeta," he protested against his mouth, "not Maddy!"

Marvel shook his head and pressed his body against Peeta's, squashing him against the door. He shoved his hand, none too gently, under the waistband of his trousers. "Maddy, are you wearing boxers?"

"Maddy isn't, Peeta is," said Peeta. "Get off!"

"It's kind of sexy," Marvel replied, seeming to have ignored what he had just said.

"I swear Marvel, if you touch me I will kill you!" Peeta shouted. When Marvel ignored him, sticking his hand into his underwear and tried to touch him, he lashed out. "Don't touch me Marvel, I'm not fucking Maddy and I never will be!"

Marvel scowled and threw Peeta to the floor, not liking his protesting at all. On the way down, Peeta hit his temple on the corner of the coffee table, making his vision black out as he hit the floor. Something wet coated his face and he sub-consciously knew it was blood.

The last thing he saw before he passed out was Marvel approaching him.

~xXx~

His head hurt. Really badly.

Peeta groaned. He forced his eyes open and blinked away the sleep in them. When his vision cleared he took in that he was lying in a bed that wasn't his own and the room was blindingly white. His head rolled to the side. Cato was sitting by his bed, fast asleep.

When he tried to move, a sharp pain shot up his groin. Peeta let out a tiny scream and clutched the quilt covers tight until it passed. The sound alerted Cato and he woke up, his head shooting off the back of the chair and his eyes bolting open. "Peeta!" he exclaimed, "You're awake."

"What happened?" Peeta asked. His throat was dry as sandpaper and it hurt to speak.

"You were found in Marvel's house unconscious," Cato explained. "The doctors treated you for concussion but you're getting checked soon for signs of . . . rape." His voice cracked on the last word and Peeta could see tears in his eyes."Oh my god Peeta, what the hell were you doing there?"

"He t-t-threatened me," Peeta answered. He tried to move but it hurt like hell. "I had no choice."

Cato shook his head and rubbed his forehead in frustration. "You should have told me," he said. He pressed his head against the mattress a few inches from Peeta's leg. "You really fucking scared me. I thought you weren't going to wake up."

"Are you mad at me?" Peeta asked.

Cato lifted his head. "No, no of course not," he said. He leaned forward and brushed the hair back from Peeta's forehead. "You're going to be okay, the doctors just need to check you over."

"Check me . . . NO!" Peeta yelled. "They can't! I'm not even on record! The only name they have for me is . . ." He dropped his voice to a whisper, "Perry." Cato's face was grave. Peeta immediately knew something was wrong, something besides the concern over his attack. "Cato, what's wrong?"

"Peeta . . . they took bloods," Cato reluctantly explained. "Your DNA came up as Perry Lorana."

Peeta's heart dropped. "W-What?"

"And it got leaked out that you were here and they're having to keep those who are trying to find out where you've been for the t.v at bay at the hospital doors," Cato continued. "They all want the big story of where Perry has been for the past four years."

Peeta swallowed the lump in his throat. His life was crumbling away in his hands, just when things were beginning to be good again. He scrunched his face up to fight back tears but lost the battle. "That's not fair!" he wailed. "Why did they have to find out?!"

Cato looked in pain. He didn't know what to say or do since it was pointless to go on about how everything was going to be okay. In Peeta's eyes, it probably wasn't. He took Peeta's hand and kissed the top of it, holding it close to his chest while the younger boy cried himself dry.

When there were no tears left to cry, they sat in silence. Peeta was devastated. He responded to Cato's touches however, threading their fingers together and holding on tight. "My life is ruined," he whispered.

"No it's not," Cato said firecely. "It's only just beginning."

The doctor came five minutes later. "Hello Miss Lorana," he said, pulling the curtain around them and trying to sound upbeat. Fresh tears welled up in Peeta's eyes and Cato quickly thumbed them away before the doctor could see. He pressed a comforting kiss against his forehead. "I'm Doctor Bell. I need to check you over for signs of attack, is that alright?"

Peeta nodded mutely.

As Doctor Bell set up, he asked a couple of questions that didn't help the current emotional situation. "When was your last smear test?"

"Four years ago," Peeta mumbled.

"Before you ran away?"

"Yes."

"I'll give you a moment to organize yourself. Just call me in when you're ready." When he stepped outside of the curtain, more tears fled from Peeta's eyes.

"He called me Miss Lorana," he told Cato, "It's already starting again!"

"Sssh, it's okay," Cato said, stroking his cheek with his knuckles. "Try not to let it get to you. For now anyway. Let's get all this hospital stuff out of the way first so we can get Marvel's ass slung in jail and then you and me will sit down and figure out where to go from there, okay?"

Peeta nodded. "Okay," he whispered.

Cato helped him pull the covers back from the lower portion of his body and lift his legs onto the stirrups. Pain burned through Peeta's lower stomach and he bit down on his lip, re-opening the wound Marvel made. He had always hated the stirrups. He felt too exposed with his legs on them.

They called Doctor Bell back in. He took a DNA swab to see if the 'attacker' left anything behind to hint at their identity. After this, he said, "Now this might be a bit uncomfortable but it won't be for long." When the cold, gloved finger pushed into his vagina, Peeta bit his knuckles and clutched Cato's forearm. It hurt like a bitch, increasing the pain in his abdomen by a hundred. It went on for what felt like hours but in reality was half a minute.

Doctor Bell was in and out in a flash and before he knew it, Peeta was alone with Cato again.

"It hurts to move," Peeta mumbled.

"I know. Why don't you just stay like this for a while and we can keep the curtain closed?" suggested Cato. "Until you can move again, that is."

Since it was just Cato, he nodded. "Alright."

Cato went to where Doctor Bell left and shut the little slither of space that had been left in the curtain. He turned around and smiled. "I need to sort myself out," he randomly said. "I actually felt possessive when he was checking you over."

Peeta actually found himself smiling. "Really?" he asked. "You're kidding, right?"

"I know, it's horrible It's just he was hurting you and he wouldn't stop," Cato replied.

Peeta squirmed and let his head fall back against the pillows. "Where's Marvel?" he asked. Cato sat down beside him again and rubbed a tired hand over his face. He shifted on the bed, completely uncomfortable.

"In custody," Cato answered.

Well, at least that was something. "Who found me?"

Cato's eyes fell on the floor. His fingers twiddled together nervously and he seemed almost sheepish. "I did."

Peeta's heart sank. "You did? How? What did you . . . Why were you there?" he asked in a rush. "You didn't even know I was there, I told you I was working late with Clove."

"Clove came to the house and when I asked she had no idea where you were," Cato explained. He reached out and cupped Peeta's face. Peeta closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. "The first thing I thought of was Marvel so I asked Clove where the new guy moved and she told me. When Marvel wouldn't answer the door I kicked it in and saw you lying on the floor."

"Oh Cato, I'm sorry-"

Cato pressed his thumb against Peeta's lips. "You don't have anything to apologize for. It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have went. It's just he told me that he had my pictures on a mass email he was going to send to everyone," Peeta said. "He was so nice until he asked if I ever loved him and I told him no. He even gave me a box of estrogen syringes and offered to pay for my surgery. I think he thought if he offered to give me my surgery I might fall head over heels for him and decide that I did love him and didn't have to change who I am."

"He's an idiot," Cato said firmly. "A big idiot."

"He could offer me all the estrogen in the world and I still wouldn't be interested in him. You're the only guy for me and I'd never sell myself out for surgery money ever again," Peeta said. He reached out and clutched Cato's arm as he lowered his legs down off the stirrups. "Ow, ow, ow."

Cato brushed the thumb across his cheekbone. "I would've killed the mother fucker myself but I knew that wouldn't have helped the situation. That would just land me in it when it's wiser to report Marvel and give him what he deserves."

"I wouldn't have wanted you to," Peeta replied. "You're all I have right now." He frowned. "Do my family know where I am?"

Cato brushed his hand back into Peeta's hair. "They're not here any more," he said. "After you ran away, they moved away to try and find you. You didn't realize because you were in the next town over at the time."

Peeta nodded. "Surely they'll find out about me," he said. "They'll hear it on the news or something . . . I don't know if I'd be able to face them . . ."

"I won't leave you," Cato pointed out, "you will always have me."

"I know I just don't want them to think I'm going to fall back into normality and be Perry. This experience has just made me all the more keen to continue earning for my surgery," Peeta said. "You know what Marvel said to me when I met him before?"

"What?" asked Cato.

"He said that he thought that I am the way I am because I hadn't been fucked by real man," Peeta said. He grinned. "Which I definitely know isn't true now. I've been fucked by a real man, and it hasn't changed my views at all."

Cato laughed. "At least you're well enough to make jokes," he said, sounding genuinely relieved.

"The only other option is to cry," Peeta admitted. "Sure, being knocked out and raped is shitty but I have been treated badly for who I am all my life. You get used to it after a while."

"But you've been attacked," Cato said. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Peeta nodded. "Soon, Marvel will be in jail and I'll have enough money so I won't have to look at the carnage below my waist anymore," he said. "Trust me Cato, I'm fine. Maltreatmet is something I'm used to." For the first time since he woke up, he realized his bandages were off. "Who took these off?"

"When they found out you were Perry they took the bandages off," Cato explained. "They told me to tell you that it's not wise to bind because it will shorten your breathing and-"

"Warp my ribcage, I know."

Cato smiled. "I love you," he said. He leaned forward and kissed Peeta's lips.

Peeta blinked. "Wh-what?" he whispered.

"I love you." Cato repeated. He pressed his forehead against Peeta's. "There, I said it. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Peeta touched his face with trembling hands and kissed him. "I love you too."

Later, Doctor Bell returned with the test results. "So the DNA of Marvel has been identified," he explained. "It's obvious from the state of your vaginal area that you were entered roughly and with force so all you have to do is make a statement."

"But I was unconscious," Peeta said.

"I know, but the police will be enquiring about the events leading up to your falling unconscious," Doctor Bell explained. "I'm sure everything will be okay, in the end. The evidence is solid, I'd say that Marvel guy is going to get everything he deserves."

**A/N: Marvel gonna get everything he deserves! Hooray-ish. Poor Peeta though :/**

**By the way guys, over the summer I'm going to be taking requests and prompts for Peetato one-shots. If you have a request, just PM me! :D**

**Please R&R!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Twelve**

Cato and Peeta moved to District 2 not long after the incident with Marvel. In 2, people are much more accepting. Things such as sexuality and identity don't matter as long as you're happy. When the residents there found out that Peeta wanted gender confirmation surgery, they didn't look at him as if he were disgusting, they smiled and asked general questions such as when's the surgery, does it cost much, etc.

Of course, there was still the usual nosey suspects. People begging for interviews and quotes for newspapers. Peeta didn't talk to any of the tabloids, he wasn't interested in how much money anyone offered him, he didn't want some trashy article to be written about long lost Perry Lorana wanting to have surgery to give herself a penis.

They lived in a little house in the countryside, just out of the way of town. In 2 they both got jobs and put money aside for the confirmation surgery. Clove would visit every now and then and was currently looking for houses in 2 as well.

Peeta hadn't heard anything from his family as of yet.

"How often did the doctor say to apply this?" Cato asked. He tried to read the instructions on the label but the writing was too small.

"Twice a day," said Peeta. He took it back and tossed it into the air, catching it again when it came back down. "Twice a day to prevent inflamation. I'm just glad Marvel didn't have any diseases."

"I think I can safely say I am too," Cato replied. Peeta sighed and let his head rest on Cato's shoulder. "Have you put it on today?"

"No but I'll get to it."

"Peeta, remember what we talked about. Just because you're getting surgery doesn't mean you neglect down there. If you get an infection or something then it will push back your chances of getting the treatment," Cato said. "Come on, we're putting it on now."

"Do we have to?" Peeta moaned, pushing himself up on his elbows. "I'm tired." It was around ten o'clock but they had been up the fast two hours . . . talking. Cato nodded and pulled the covers back, revealing his lover's pale, delicate body. "Fine give me it." Peeta snatched the container off Cato and unscrewed the lid. His fingers dipped into the ointment before slipping down his stomach to where it had to be applied.

Marvel had left a gash on the inner wall of Peeta's vagina when he had raped him so the regular application of the ointment was to aid the healing and prevent infection. "Is it getting better?" Cato asked.

"I think so," Peeta said through gritted teeth. The wound being in such a sensitive area, it really hurt to apply ointment there. "It's hard to really tell."

"Do you want me to have a look?"

"If that's a pick up line I think you need to work on it."

Cato laughed. "I'm serious, the doctor did say to check it whenever you can."

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. He let his head fall back against his pillow and shut his eyes. "But no monkey business."

Cato slipped down to the end of the bed. "Well you're going to have to spread your legs," he said, his voice light and teasing. Peeta flipped him off but opened his legs so Cato could sit between them.

Cato didn't think he was ever going to get used to the beauty of Peeta's bare form. The warmth between his legs was tender and inviting, unlike anyone he had ever been with before. Not that he couldn't wait for Peeta to get his surgery however, god no, he was just as excited for that as his partner was.

Trying to be as gentle as possible, he slipped his fingers into him and parted the soft folds. Peeta sucked in a breath when the cool air brushed the sensitive area. "How does it look?" he asked.

"Not as bad," Cato answered. He probed the cut with his pinky finger and Peeta's lower body jerked a little, annouciated with a hiss of pain. "The swelling's gone down."

"At least that's something." Peeta mumbled. Cato smiled and wrapped the younger boy's legs around his waist, his hands finding his thighs and rubbing the skin softly. Peeta sighed in content, abused body finally coming to peace with itself.

Cato admired his lover. The smoothness of his slim legs, the heat of his molten center, the expanse of his flat stomach, leading up to the volupturous curve of his breasts. His head was rolled to one side, making his neck look painfully vulnerable, like Peeta was actually inviting him to come and take him with his mouth.

"Cato, you're poking me." Peeta smiled, his eyes not bothering to open.

"That's because you turn me on so much," Cato flirted.

"It's a gift and a curse."

Cato frowned in curiousity, his fingers drawing patterns on Peeta's stomach. "You're beautiful," he murmured. "I don't tell you enough."

"You tell me plenty. I don't tell _you_ enough," Peeta replied.

Cato shrugged. For some reason that was slightly hypocritital, he could tell Peeta that he was beautiful for the rest of his life without a problem but if Peeta ever tried to tell him the same thing, he wouldn't believe it as easy. Why, exactly, he wasn't sure. A thought suddenly came to mind. "What were the results to the pregnancy test?"

Peeta grinned. "I wondered when you were going to remember that," he said.

Marvel had raped Peeta during his most fertile time. They hadn't realized this until Peeta had been released from hospital and an immediate panic ensued. When they left 12 and went to 2, it took a few days. They let this time be the period that let Peeta's insides settle and he then took a pregnancy test that day while Cato was at work.

"I'm not pregnant," Peeta said. "It's fine."

Cato sighed in relief. "Oh thank god!" He leaned over Peeta so their faces hovered inches from each other. Peeta replaced the space between them by pushing up and pecking Cato's lips. "Now I can tell you."

Peeta pulled back and quirked an eyebrow. "Tell me what?"

"I may or may not have visited the District 2 hospital earlier in the week," Cato said. Peeta sat up right, folding his arms across his chest as if self conscious all of a sudden.

"What are you saying?" he asked.

"And I may or may not have discovered that gender confirmation surgery does not cost any money here," Cato explained. When Peeta's eyes widened, he grinned. "And I also may or not have gotten you appointment to discuss the possibility of top and bottom surgery with a doctor."

Peeta's hands went to his mouth in shock. "You're being serious, aren't you?" he asked.

"Of course I am."

Peeta launched himself at Cato, wrapping his arms around his neck. "Oh my god, thank you so, so, so much!" he yelled. Cato laughed and wrapped his arms around the younger boy to hold him tighter. "Oh, I love you so much!"

Cato buried his face in the crook of Peeta's neck. "I am willing to do anything to make you happy." They looked at each other and kissed, opening their mouths and making out fiecerely. Peeta wrapped his legs around Cato's waist and locked his ankles, fingers winding into his boyfriend's hair.

Cato lifted him up and backed him against the wall by the headboard. Peeta gasped and clutched Cato tighter. "Careful," he murmured. "The cut still hurts."

"Oh god, sorry," Cato said, pulling back a little. "I didn't think."

"No, it's fine," Peeta insisted. He loosened his legs to lessen the pressure on his crotch and pulled Cato's mouth towards his again. "Just be gentle."

"Am I anything but?" Cato replied. He captured Peeta's lips and their mouths moved together in sync. Cato's lips travelled down farther, tapping kisses along Peeta's neck and across his collarbone. The younger boy shivered and pressed his lips against the older's head.

Cato's hand found a breast and massaged it carefully. Peeta groaned and thumped his head repeatedly against the wall as Cato rolled his nipple between his fingers. "Ah, ah-Oh g-g-g-god!" he stuttered. "A little harder, Cato, p-p-please." Surprised by the authority in Peeta's voice, Cato did want he was told. He let his hand clutch a little tighter and kissed his neck tenderly.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you," Cato murmured as he ventured down lower to the blond curls underneath Peeta. Peeta nodded and reconnected their lips, his hands dipping between them and exploring Cato's chest and abs. His small hands felt so nice against his skin, Cato paused just to bask in it for a moment.

"I love the feeling of your skin under my hands," Peeta mumbled against Cato's mouth. "I wish I could have a torso like yours." Peeta had come to accept that, even if he got his surgery, he didn't stand a chance of ever being able to get rid of his feminine arms and torso.

"Your body is just as good as mine," Cato told him. His fingers walked a path down Peeta's stomach, causing him to suck in at the ticklish feeling it caused.

"You're sexy, I'm . . . not," replied Peeta.

"Oh hush up," Cato chuckled. "You're petite and that's extremely sexy. Now come on, we've got work to attend to."

Peeta laughed as Cato laid him back down on the bed and silenced him with a kiss.

~xXx~

Peeta sat on his hands anxiously. Even though Cato was with him, he was still extremely nervous about doing this. He knew the doctor was a professional but there was no guarantee that he didn't know about the Perry Lorana story. If he did, he didn't show it on your face.

"If you would like to remove your shirt Mr Mellark, I'd like to see what we're dealing with here," the doctor, Dr Crane, said.

With a nervous glance to Cato-who smiled reassuredly-Peeta grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged it up and over his head. His bandages were wrapped tightly around his chest and he unwound them with trembling hands. The cold air immediately nipped his skin, making goosepimples break out.

Dr Crane took measurements of his chest and explained how the process was to work. "Trans men with moderate to large breasts like yours usually require a formal bilateral mastectomy with grafting and reconstruction of the nipple-areola. This will result in two horizontal scars on the lower edge of the pectoralis muscle, but allows for easier resizing of the nipple and placement in a typically male position."

"Moderate to large?" Peeta repeated.

"Yes," said Dr Crane. "For your age, your chest is quite large, hence the stretch marks along here." He ran his little finger along the small marks along his skin. He placed a gentle hand on Peeta's shoulder. "I heard you went through quite an ordeal recently. Regretably, this may push back your bottom surgery."

Peeta nodded. "I understand."

"Is the damage servere?" asked Dr Crane.

"No, there's just a cut I have to apply ointment to."

Dr Crane nodded. "Are you interested in a Hysterectomy and bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy?"

"What's that?" Cato asked.

"It's the removal of my ovaries and fallopian tubes," Peeta explained. "Which I am interested in. After the close encounter with Marvel, I want it all gone."

Dr Crane jotted this all down. "Now, this is the tricky part. Most trans men use the Hysterectomy and bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy as their only gender identity organs. Because surgery to turn the vagina into a penis can be extremely difficult and not at all sustainable."

Peeta's face fell and he played with his fingers to distract himself from his disappointment. "It's not?" he asked.

"Not really, no. If I were to give you my professional opinion, I wouldn't recommend the bottom surgery other than the ovary removal," Dr Crane explained.

"You wouldn't?"

"I wouldn't."

Peeta looked at Cato for help. His boyfriend shrugged. "It's your decision, babe, I can't tell you what to do," he said. Peeta looked down at his chest. Would breast and ovary removal be enough?

"Can I see how I feel after those surgeries and then make my decision?" he asked.

"Of course," said Dr Crane. He gestured at Peeta's chest and continued, "The breast removal is completed with two surgeries. First the contents of the breast are removed through a small cut and then there is a year interval where the skin is left to retract and then the excess skin will be removed."

Peeta nodded. "Okay." He looked at Cato and found himself smiling, the gesture immediately returned. "I can't wait."

**A/N: Couple chapters left! Aargh, I can't believe I'm nearly finished this! :D**

**Please R&R! (:**


	13. Chapter 13

**Thirteen**

A loud moan echoed throughout the room. The air was heavy with passion, ladened down with heat and dripping in sex. Peeta's voice box had a mind of its own, groaning and expressing its pleasure in the loudest way possible. His body moved against the bed, bending and squirming against the mattress.

Cato was being painfully slow, slowly thrusting in and out of the younger boy to make him beg for more. He sometimes pulled out completely and teased Peeta's slick lips with his cock until he whined and demanded that he got back inside him. Cato let his lips drag up the young boy's neck, his hand mercilessly groping one of his soft breasts, the movement matching their rythmn.

In need of power, Peeta forced Cato to roll over on the bed so he straddled his lap, pulling himself up and sinking back down. Pleasure burned in his veins and his hands came to rest on the pillow on either side of Cato's head. Cato held onto Peeta's waist, helping him move more fluently.

"Ah, C-Cato, oh god, that feels good," Peeta moaned, clutching the pillow tight in his hands.

Cato groaned his agreement, unable to form words. He slid his hands up his boyfriend's small body until they found the gentle slope of his breasts. "I'm not gonna lie," he said through gritted teeth, "I'm going to miss your boobs."

Peeta chuckled, letting go with one hand and placing it ontop of Cato's. "Then make the most of 'em while you still have 'em." Not needing to be told twice, Cato teased and played with Peeta's soon to be gone breasts, alternating his technique in a way that made the younger boy writhe ontop of him. "Oh g-g-g-god Cato, I'm g-g-gonna cum."

Cato's hands slid up Peeta's back and he pulled the boy against him, so their bodies were pressed together. "So am I," he said.

Peeta came undone, his toes curling as a loud moan unleashed from his mouth. His hips lifted as the orgasm hit, flooding his neither regions with a clear, sticky substance. He managed to gather the strength to roll off Cato just in time for him to come, so his sperm splattered his stomach instead of entering Peeta's sytem.

Cato was exhausted, not seeming to care he was covered in his own semen. Peeta smiled and purred, "I'll take care of it." His boyfriend's eyes widened as he watched Peeta lean down and lick every last piece of sperm off his body.

"Whoa," Cato breathed.

They lay in each other's arms, wrapped up in the comforter. Peeta was excited, he couldn't help it. He squirmed, unable to keep still, huffing irritably when he looked at the clock and barely a minute had passed. "When do we have to be at the hospital?" he asked.

Cato rolled his eyes and laughed. "Not for another five hours. Eight in the morning, remember?" he said.

Peeta groaned. "I want to go now," he whined.

"Well, you could, but I doubt the surgeon would appreciate it," Cato replied. Peeta scowled and jabbed his elbow into his ribs.

At eight o'clock the next morning, Peeta was due to have his top surgery. It was the beginning of the journey towards becoming who he wanted to be. Cato could blame him for being excited but the constant squirming was getting in the way of him his holding him. It was how they ended up having sex in the first place. Because while they had been sleeping, Peeta had been constantly poking him, whispering, "What time is it? What time is it? What time is it?"

"Have you thought any more about the bottom surgery?" asked Cato.

Peeta sat up, giving up on getting any rest at all, and folded his arms ontop of his knees. "I don't want to get surgery that even the surgeon himself doesn't recommend," he admitted. "But would having the Hysterectomy and bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy be enough to make me feel like a man?"

Cato knew he could answer that because he didn't know how Peeta would feel after having the hysterectomy. And he certainly couldn't _tell_ him how he would feel either. "Whatever you decide to do, I'll stand by you," he reminded Peeta.

"I know," Peeta sighed. "I suppose right now I'll just focus on the top surgery. Get rid of these apparently over-sized melons first."

Cato snickered. "Over-sized melons," he repeated.

"Yes, because that's what they are!"

"Well, those . . . urm . . . _melons_, won't be there much longer," Cato said.

Peeta looked over his shoulder, with one of the brightest grins he had ever given him since they had met. He let out a squeal-his voice for the briefest of milliseconds transforming in Perry's-and jumped ontop of him. "Won't be there much longer!" he declared. "I can't believe it!"

Cato laughed. "You better believe it because tomorrow it's going to happen."

Peeta didn't look afraid at all. He burst out laughing, consumed by joy, and punched the pillow to let some of it out. "I can't wait!"

Tomorrow, the journey began.

~xXx~

Five days after Peeta had the top surgery, his parents found him.

"Stop picking at the scars Peeta or so help me god I'll tie your wrists to the doorknob," Cato threatened when he caught his boyfriend's hands travelling up his shirt to where the scars resided on his chest. Peeta looked at him with wide eyes, acting innocent, hands dropping down by his sides again.

"I wasn't picking," he said defensively. "I was just . . . checking."

"Checking what?"

"That they were still there."

This had been going on ever since the surgery. Peeta had been having trouble adjusting to life without his chest. Sure, it felt good, but Cato knew he was finding it difficult because he had spent so long with his, as he put it, 'over-sized melons', and now that they were gone, it was a big change.

"I don't have to bind anymore," Peeta sang, doing a little happy dance over to Cato. He jumped onto the sofa beside him. "Of course, it hurts like a bitch right now but at least this pain will go away. I can't stop looking at it." Peeta pulled his shirt up and looked at the surgery site.

The skin, as Dr Crane had described, was loose and a little baggy around the area where they had operated. But that was what the next year was for, letting the skin adjust and retract back. If Peeta had been unsettled waiting five hours, three hundred and sixty five days were going to kill him.

"I am one quarter there." Peeta was like a hyper child on christmas eve. "Once I get the Hysterectomy it will be three quarters!"

"When's your appointmet for that?" asked Cato. Just then, the doorbell went. Peeta clamoured off the sofa and went to the door, talking away as he walked.

"Six months from now. There's a waiting list," he explained. "Some women have the Hysterectomy to lessen their chances of ovarian cancer or do it because they already have it so I don't mind waiting a while for that. If someone's ill then they deserve to get rid of their organs before I do."

Peeta had opened the door just as he had said that last sentence and turned to find himself staring at his parents. It was a surreal moment, where everything went quiet and still. Peeta didn't know what to say or do. He just stood and stared.

"Perry?" his mother asked gently.

Peeta was still too stunned to reply. Cato stood up and went to his side. "Sorry, there isn't a Perry here," he said. "Just myself and Peeta."

"What are you doing here?" Peeta demanded, finding his voice.

"We've been looking for four years, Perr-Peeta. Of course we'd come looking when the news said you were here," his father answered. "We've missed you so much."

"Not enough to remember that my name isn't Perry," answered Peeta. His mother stepped forward to hug him but he stepped back defensively. "You didn't care that I wanted to be called Peeta, you didn't care that I wasn't a girl, you forced it on me anyway, I don't want you here."

"Perry, sweetheart, don't you think this has gone too far?" said his mother.

"What? My _identity_?" Peeta snapped. "I'm sorry if you think that I'm going too far. I mean, being who I am has always been such a burden on you, hasn't it?"

"Don't be like that, Perry-"

"Peeta!" Cato held Peeta back when he took a suddenly violent step towards his parents. "My name is Peeta!"

"Easy," Cato murmured, "it's alright."

His parents looked at Cato as if noticing him for the first time. "Who's your friend?" his mother asked, her voice distasted. Peeta tried to take another step forward but Cato forced him back.

"That's Cato, he's my boyfriend." It was clear that Peeta was finding it difficult to control himself. "And frankly, the first person I actually told about who I am who understood me. Even though that should have been _you_."

His mother narrowed her eyes. "So you're with a man," she said. "Couldn't you have done that as Perry?"

"Celica," Peeta's father muttered, taking a hold of her arm. It seemed that Cato and Peeta's father were the mediator's in this whole conversation.

"It's not about my sexuality!" Peeta shouted angrily. "It's about who I am!"

Celica looked desperate. "All I ever wanted was a little girl! Why couldn't you just be that for me?! I never wanted anything else from you! It's not fair!"

Peeta had gone erriely quiet. It was like all the anger just left him with those sentences. "Not fair," he said. "Not fair. Do you want to know what's not fair, mother? What's not fair is that my own parents couldn't accept me for who I wanted to be, that they drove me to run away, practically prostitute myself for money, get abused again and again before living in solitude for two years. _That's_ what's not fair. All because you two couldn't accept that I didn't want to be your precious Perry anymore!"

"You choose to do that," Celica insisted. "You could have stayed safe if you had just stayed put with us."

Peeta was shaking, tears forming in his eyes. "Get out," he said.

"You don't mean that," said his mother.

"Get out," Peeta repeated. "If never listened me and you're not doing it now. Get out of our house, _now_!"

"Perry-"

"Get out!"

Cato was forcibly holding Peeta back again. "Peeta, maybe if we sat down and discussed this calmly-"

"No, they're never going to get it!" Peeta yelled. He pointed at his mother in a threatening manner that startled both his parents. "Perry Lorana is dead and she is never fucking coming back so don't ever come back here unless you are ready to call me by my real name. I am Peeta Mellark and if you cannot accept that then I never want to see you again, do I make myself clear?!"

"I don't think you get it, _Perry_," Celica snapped. "You're always going to be my little girl, no matter what you do. In my eyes I will never see a Peeta. You are Perry, my Perry, and nothing will ever change that."

Peeta stared at her with cold eyes. "Oh really?" he said. Before Cato could stop him, Peeta grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up so his mother could see his scars. It took Celica a moment to process what she was looking at but when she did, something unexpected happened.

Her eyes rolled behind her head and she passed out.

Peeta jumped back, surprised, and his dad just about caught her before she hit the floor.

"What have you done to yourself?" his father asked gently.

"Dad, don't. Just leave. You've always chose her over me," Peeta said. "I don't expect anything to be any different. Just go, I don't blame you."

Cato had expected his dad to protest, to say no and that he didn't want the past four years to be a waste, but that didn't happen. Instead, Mr Lorana pulled his wife up into his arms and carried her away.

Peeta slammed the door shut and yelled in frustration. Cato simply pulled him into his arms, resting his chin on his head and shushing him when the tears began to come. He had known that there would have been some sort of confrontation when Peeta's parents finally showed their faces, but he hadn't expected this.

"You don't need them," Cato said firmly. "You have me."

Peeta nodded but continued to cry regardless. He fisted Cato's shirt in his hands and sobbed raggadly, unable to control the fact that a part of him had hoped that his parents would come to terms with where he wanted to go with his life.

Cato knew they didn't need Peeta's parents. They had each other.

And as long as they had each other, everything would be okay.

**A/N: Please R&R! **


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

To say the next few years were easy would be a lie. Peeta struggled through the remainder of his top and bottom surgery because of a mixture of infections and maltreatment from the few close-minded citizens of District 2. Cato, however, stayed with him through the whole ordeal and never left, no matter how difficult things got. Clove finally got a house in 2 during the waiting period after Peeta's breast removal and she was just as accepting as Cato. She wasn't as keen to listen to Peeta when he insisted for no violence. Throughout the two years of the transition process, Clove punched many an insulter.

Peeta was given testosterone to inject himself with a little while after his breast removal. His voice deepened and Perry's voice stopped breaking through. He grew facial hair, which he shaved off due to lack of liking of it on his face but was excited all the same when he first noticed it growing.

Cato had never saw a sweeter sight than watching Peeta get hyper over finally becoming a man. In the end, he decided to not get the bottom surgery, concluding that Dr Crane was right and a Hysterectomy and bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy would be enough to identify as male.

Peeta had been in surgery for many hours. It took so long Cato had began to get jittery, sitting outside waiting for news on how it went. It wasn't possible for someone to die in the Hysterectomy process but he couldn't help thinking of various scenarios that scared the living crap out of him. Like the surgeon accidentally hits an artery he isn't supposed to, or there's a glitch of some sort, or Peeta's body just couldn't handle the change and his system failed. Despite their unlikihood, Cato wasn't convinced he could relax through the whole time he was in surgery.

When he finally came out, Dr Crane explained he might be unconscious for a while. Cato didn't care, he just wanted to sit with Peeta for a while. He looked so peaceful, sleeping with his head rolled to the side. Cato didn't know how long he waited for him to wait up, but all remembered doing was stroking his hair and talking to him while he slept.

Eventually, Peeta's eyes fluttered and he forced them open. He smiled dopely at Cato, reaching out and weakly gripping his hand. "Hey," he had whispered.

"Hey," Cato replied.

"I'm a man now." Peeta sounded so pleased. His face was alight with joy. Nothing was ever going to make him as happy as he was in that moment.

Cato pecked his lips. "You always were."

With the increased dosage of testosterone, Peeta's confidence grew and grew. He started looking into creating his own business and eventually got the funding to open his own bakery in 2. Cato and Clove helped a little, pulling in some extra money from their own funds. They all worked together and soon built up a reputation as the go-to place for the best cakes.

Marvel was in prison for ten years. He got released on parole after behaving himself but was told if he came within ten yeards of Peeta then he would be arrested again with no chance of parole. Thankfully, this time around he had some sense and never returned for revenge.

As for his parents, they didn't try to come in contact with him again. Whether it was out of disgrace or lack of effort, neither Peeta or Cato wanted to know, nor did they really care.

Perry Lorana didn't exactly die but she ceased to exist. She was left behind. Peeta didn't forget her but never mentioned her, nor did he actknowledge that she was ever part of his life. Cato didn't bring her up, because there was no need to. There were always going to be the people who refused to believe that Peeta was who he was and still brought Perry up at unnecesscary times but it no longer mattered.

It no longer mattered at all.

Peeta and Cato got married five years after his Hysterectomy. It was a small ceremony, with only a few friends and some of Cato's family. They loved each other and that's all that they knew. And it wasn't Perry who Cato was in love with, it was Peeta. It had always been Peeta.

And now they could live the rest of their lives together.

Because now Peeta was comfortable in his own skin.

**A/N: My friend who like to thank you for reading his story. He himself also went through the transition surgery and would like to thanks you for all your wonderful reviews. I also appreciate it very much as well.**

**Please R&R! (:**


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